


Long May He Reign

by Puffinpastry



Series: Aconite [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Background Marutina | Jade/Emma | Gemma, Eleven isn’t the luminary, F/F, Hallucinations, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), M/M, Nightmares, Paranoia, Psychological Horror, Rated For Violence, References to Torture, either way this one gets dark folks, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffinpastry/pseuds/Puffinpastry
Summary: Crowned King and ruler of Dundrasil for little under a year, the tragic deaths of the previous king and all his council are coming back to haunt Eleven in more ways than he could have expected.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Aconite [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848862
Comments: 72
Kudos: 42





	1. Shades of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prayer could do very little in the face of his sins.  
> But it wasn’t his own soul’s good for which he prayed.

The sound of his silverware on the porcelain plate is all that can be heard in the empty room.

Eleven still isn’t quite used to what being  _ alone  _ is.

Even knowing that there are guards and castle staff just beyond the double doors of the banquet hall doesn’t do at all what that knowledge should to quell the anxiety that being on his lonesome makes the King feel.

It’s just a leftover of his old life, he knows. 

But that doesn’t put a stop to the eerie feeling that solitude brought. 

His plate was nearly cleaned.

Before long he would be back with others, back to work on restoring what his grandfather had ruined.

“You really ought to be careful.”

The sudden voice shocked Eleven from his thoughts, and the figure that stood on the opposite end of the table only served to chill him further.

“Who knows what they’re putting in the food these days?”

The late King Robert, face blue and blood red where it trailed from his mouth.

Eleven hadn’t seen his body until the funeral. Until the undertaker had done his job. 

But his mind did well enough to fill in the details. 

A pain in his chest. Tightness as if he had caught cold, that easily grew into needle pricks. 

It was a dream. It couldn’t be anything else. Rab was dead. Laid to rest in the family tomb. 

But the pain felt so  _ real.  _ Clawing up his throat, tearing his lungs apart from the inside like acid.

It was only a dream.

Bright flecks of blood staining the tablecloth, his vision wavering as his fight for a decent breath became more desperate.

_ “Please…”  _ He was only just able to force out before he lost his grip on the table edge. 

Nothing but a dream. But it felt so real.

Eleven didn’t know who he was begging, or what he was asking for.

Rab was a dead man. A ghost. There was nothing he could do to help-

Just before his vision was entirely black and the world around him gone, Eleven caught sight of the figure growing closer.

No longer Rab. 

His grandfather replaced, Eleven was looking up into his own cold, disinterested eyes.

He woke with a shuddering inhale, and a scarcely held in scream. 

Even caught in half-waking terror, he knew better than to show weakness. 

“Eleven,” arms around him, pulling him up from the pillows, “Wake up, come on, you’re okay.”

Too many times now, he had been seen this way. 

Too many times, he’d been witnessed at his weakest, terrified of the shadows of the night like a child.

Trembling with fear over nothing but figments of his own imagination.

It takes a handful of moments, but eventually Eleven feels his heart slow, and the shaking ease. 

“I’m okay.” He finally says, pulling away from his… His lover’s arms.

Nearly a year in his company, and he still doesn’t know his name. “I’m fine.” Eleven says, “Just a dream. Nothing more.”

“Eleven…” 

“I am perfectly fine.” He stands from the bed, thankful for all the changes he’s made. 

There are guards on the other side of the double doors to the king’s bed chambers, and two more on the outside of the ones that led to a balcony, none but his assassin to witness his momentary feebleness. 

But the assassin hardly seems convinced. 

“How many nights have you had that dream now?” He asked.

“I do not see why that matters.”

“Eleven…” His lover trailed off, concerned but unsure exactly what he could do to help. Nothing so far had shown any sign of change.

And frankly… He considered it a success to even get the King to share the night terror that had plagued him since they first committed the atrocity,

“Will you be guarding me, today?” Eleven pushed past, busying himself with getting ready for the day instead. 

The guards and their duties had undergone a complete overhaul, all overseen by his… Assassin. 

It was difficult, with so few people he could trust to get his Kingdom back to how it should be, but at the very least he had been more than happy to take on a share of the work.

And slowly but surely, that work had begun to lift.

No longer did he guard Eleven day and night, but only when he decided he needed to, only when he wanted.

A handful of guards handpicked by his assassin rotated in and out day and night, his schedule nearly the same. Easy to learn.

Easy to spot anything out of the ordinary. 

“No. I’ll be spending the day with Mia.” He answered, dragging himself out of bed and gathering his own things. He had his own quarters, plenty of space for both himself and his sister, but more often than not, he spent his evenings and nights sharing Eleven’s. 

Not that Eleven ever minded the intimacy. He only wished it was for better reasons. “Alright. Will I be seeing you and your sister at dinner, pumpkin?”

He scowled at the pet name. “Don’t call me pumpkin.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just give me your name.”

“Well, find something else to call me. You haven’t gotten my name yet, and you aren’t going to.”

Every morning, he asked. And every morning, he was denied. 

But he didn’t expect anything else.

He doesn’t need the assassin’s name anymore. What was that one little detail against everything else? It hardly mattered.

At this point, it was a joke to even expect to get it, and in some ways he almost preferred it this way.

He didn’t need his name. Not when he was so many other things. His closest friend, his lover. His most trusted guard, his own personal assassin. 

And… The shade of his nightmare beginning to fade, Eleven managed a smile. 

So, ‘pumpkin’ was out. As was ‘muffin,’ and ‘baby’ and ‘sweet.’ 

He stopped just before the doors. “Unless you need me with you today? If there’s an emergency-”

“There won’t be any emergencies.” Eleven says, with perhaps just a little too much certainty. Recent days passing by peacefully or not, he should know better than to expect peace to remain. 

Besides… “Enjoy your day off. I can handle being on my own for a little while.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am, sugar.”

The door closed with a slam. ‘Sugar’ was crossed from the list. 

But now… 

The room was so empty. 

It was enough to raise the hair on his neck and set an uneasy twist to his stomach. 

Eleven knows he’s not alone. Not really. That soon enough, there would be more than enough people around. But he feels it all the same.

His quarters bigger, having moved after his ascension, but noticeably emptier. Less old artifacts, useless trinkets. 

But that only left it more blank. 

Even what he wore now was simpler in comparison to what he did before. Trading out the layers of fine silk for a simpler tunic. 

Though the luxury is hardly gone, the differences between how he lived and how those in the city did were still too vast.

But progress was progress. Baby steps. 

Little by little… He’ll get his kingdom to where it should be. 

With a deep breath, Eleven tried to chase away the last remnants of the night, and went to face his day.

In some ways, it was hard to tell all that much had really changed. 

His days were still mapped out to the second, and he still had an escort no matter where he went…

But at the same time…

He was still so much freer. 

The halls were mostly empty through his morning walk from his chambers to the chapel, but when he came to pass any servants making their own morning rounds, there would be none to tell him he could take a moment to stop and greet them, to thank them for their hard work. 

And being in the chapel itself, with its vaulted ceilings and lined pews, and so many little places killers could be laying in wait… 

It had been one of the first places he had been forbidden from going.

And now…

Before, he never believed in much of a higher power.

But these days, each morning and every night, he prays for forgiveness. For the peace of the souls he had killed before their time.

It was for the best.

It was for the good of all his kingdom.

But… The Almighty sees all, and holds each and every life in sanctity. 

To take even one before it’s time was unforgivable. 

Prayer could do very little in the face of his sins.

But it wasn’t his own soul’s good for which he prayed. 

Next would normally be breakfast but…. He denies the offer. He can taste copper in his mouth, and whether it was nothing but a nightmare or not… He doesn’t have much of an appetite anyway. 

Skipping a meal or two wasn’t an unusual choice, but with these two… It may as well have been an admission of something terribly wrong. 

Flanked by two guards on high alert, he makes it to the throne room in a rushed manner, leaving him wondering not for the first time what his thief saw in this sort of paranoia.

But…

It was better to be fussed over just a little in exchange for his thief’s peace of mind. 

Even now it still feels wrong to sit in the throne. The crown beginning to weigh upon his shoulders.

Perhaps it wouldn’t always feel so wrong, but for now…

He could bear it.

For the sake of all those who relied on him.

Four people wait to speak.

He recognizes one of them. The leader of the former rebellion. 

Their audiences are strained, neither quite willing to trust, but becoming routine. The rebellion forces are slowly being assimilated into the rest of the castle. Working hard to bridge the gap between the nobility and the citizens. But still distrusting the King, even after the truth about Eleven’s near imprisonment came to light. 

As the first steps forward to the throne, takes a bow, and begins the same formal introduction he had each and every time before, Eleven let’s his eyes wander.

He doesn’t recognize the other three.

One wearing filthy clothes, holding a young child close, wearing unfamiliar clothes. Someone likely seeking refuge.

Dundrasil had at least made it that far, that people with nowhere else to turn had once more sought it out as a safe haven.

Progress, as little as it may seem to be.

The next was just as unfamiliar, but much less noteworthy, wearing nice clothes and a bored expression.

Likely some leftover of the old reign, another come by to beg him for their old way of life to return.

Another to send away, and likely another knife to dodge.

He and Rab were not too different, these old nobles the same as well.

Surely there was a bloodless way to carry out his will, but simple death…

It was ever so effective.

Eyes finding the last of his morning audiences, Eleven could almost say he  _ knows  _ them, that he’s seen them many a time before-

But not quite like this.

Their skin is pale, now. Devoid of the warmth of life and their lips tinged blue like a corpse.

Eleven realizes exactly who he’s seeing. 

Though he may never have known their name, meeting bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles…

He doesn’t need to know their name.

He watched them die.

~~

The halls echo with the sound of Erik’s footsteps against the polished tile. 

Walking the castle a free man.

More than that, even. He can’t deny that he is reaping the benefits that came with what he and Eleven had done.

A  _ royal title.  _ More than one, if he wanted to get specific, but it was hardly what he was happiest with.

The whispers start the moment he leaves the King’s quarters behind him, and only increase in volume as he walks. 

Few know his name. 

Less dare to utter it. 

It was the safety that Erik cared most about, what he fought to protect. 

Both for Eleven, and the people who had come with him. 

Even if that fighting had left his hands bloodier than he thought they could get.

But just to be fair…

He couldn’t have been much better off living on the streets, still.

Sooner or later, he would have needed to make a choice. 

Erik could make out the words around him, if he cared enough to listen.

Whispered rumors about his past. Who exactly he could be, what he had done… How the king could have known him.

Like some creature of myth, here one day out of the blue, the king’s most trusted man without any ceremony. Without any build to the rank he held.

Even the luxury he’s beginning to grow used to, as much as he hates to admit. A warm bed, good food, and no need to scrape or steal - said like that it hardly seemed luxurious. But that was really all he asked for. 

What all those nobles needed when they already had all  _ this?  _

He could wrap his head around it. 

Words thrown around at him. The King’s pet, murderer,  _ concubine.  _ Like it was an insult. 

He isn’t married to the king, he’s no consort, he isn’t his husband.

Officially, he isn’t even so much as a concubine. It may as well be a compliment for all he cares.

As for  _ murderer... _

He doesn’t care as much as he thought he would about killing.

The nightmares fade soon after the act, and he hasn’t lost any health to the guilt. The only thing it’s made him regret is his increasingly strained relationship with Mia. 

She knows what all he did. What all he’s continued to do.

She doesn’t hate him, he knows. She couldn’t ever… But she hates Eleven.

Makes no secret of it. 

That, and…

He doesn’t meet the eyes of the figure in the hall. 

That, and the people that won’t stop staring at him, blatantly following just within sight.

Erik hadn’t known to expect to be tailed just as closely as the king. 

On the edges of his awareness… He didn’t see the blood pooling on the floor behind him. 


	2. Days Gone By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was no secret to anyone how much Mia hated the king.   
> And now secret how much he wanted that fact to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up!  
> Most chapters are going to have content warnings up here, and a few notes on how to skip around any potentially uncomfy stuff!  
> Tags will be added as needed, but this chapter should be in the clear.

Erik couldn’t recall all that much about his life before the Vikings came. 

The memories are old, hazy. Faded by time.

But… They were good. 

There wasn’t much to be said about the many tiny villages that made up the outer borders of the kingdom of Sniflheim. 

Not much to be said of his parents, either. 

Their faces obscured by the burning corners of his mind… But Mia’s was clear.

The memory of how heavy she had seemed. But still how impossibly small, as an infant in a child’s arms. 

He doesn’t remember what he was told about his baby sister. But he remembers holding on as best he could, determined to not drop her.

Even as the scene shifted, no longer cozy inside his family’s cabin, but outside in the blizzarding night, running for his life.

The heat of his burning village around them. 

He’d been too small to understand. 

Even now… He struggled with the concept.

His village hadn’t anything to offer more than furs and kind hospitality.

They didn’t mine or grow anything valuable.

But the Vikings didn’t care.

They took what there was to take. 

Left what they couldn’t sell or use. 

And Erik… He and the other children were something they could use. 

There wasn’t much of a choice, being it either staying with the Vikings and working himself to death, or trying the roads on his own, and freezing in the night. 

If it was just his own life he was risking, then he would’ve run without a second thought. 

But with Mia… She was at least being taken proper care of. She at least had a better chance in the meager accommodations that they were allowed. 

And so…

Erik stayed. And worked. And became one of them.

Few of them were chosen to make something better of their life than hard labor, few that the Vikings saw any potential in. Erik didn’t know at first what he had done to prove himself.

It wasn’t a good life. He hated what he had been forced into, hated everything about being a Viking, from what he was forced to do right down to the snow and sea he lived in. 

But it wasn’t long until he found out.

He was scrawny, weak in their eyes. 

In hindsight, he should have seen what was coming. 

A raid gone wrong. The bloody knife in his own hand. Left behind to take the fall.

He hadn’t actually hurt anyone.

But no one would listen. 

He was free from the Vikings, then.

But living on the run wasn’t any easier.

Falling through bad place to bad place, just trying desperately to find  _ anything  _ at all stable… 

Until there wasn’t a single place that his face wasn’t already known.

That he wasn’t being looked for.

No choice but to leave.

Erik shakes himself out of the past, the rush of memories brought on by the sight of the royal emblem blazoned across the side of a carriage, embroidered onto the flags carried by those on horseback.

It’s been years since Erik had last seen it, but even so… He can’t help the chill that spreads through his blood at the sight. 

Years gone on years since anyone of any status had dared tread in the ruined streets, and yet Sniflheim was the first to break that streak. 

Surely… 

Erik had only wanted some fresh air. A few moments of peace before he returned back inside to questions he’d rather not answer, a hard blue stare he couldn’t quite meet. 

But this…

This was reason enough to cut his visit short. 

“Mia!” Erik slammed the balcony door behind him, and grabbed his coat from where he had draped it over the back of a chair. Even if by some stretch of the imagination they were recognized… The visiting Sniflheimian envoy wouldn’t be able to arrest them. But that fact did precious little to alleviate his nerves.“Stay in here today. I have to go-”

“What?” Mia shoots up from her seat with the sudden sound, but when she catches sight of the emblem tied to his coat, she sneers. “Can his royal Majesty not handle a single day on his own?”

Erik stopped at the door, hesitating to leave. “Mia…”

There was plenty he could say.

It was his job to protect the king. There was an  _ envoy  _ arriving, he should be present.

It could be dangerous.

But… Each one felt like a poor excuse.

No matter how much time he put into gaining back her respect… It only felt like he was losing more and more of what little he had left.

“I’ll be back.” He said instead, glancing away at the sheer  _ disappointment  _ in her face. “I promise, okay? I just… I have to go.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw her shoulders slump right before she fell right back into the plush sofa she’d been in before. “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Go. I’ll be here whenever you get done playing knight.”

She wasn’t looking at him, her head turned back to the window, as if there was anything to be seen beside the grey sky.

Dressed in the deep greens of Dundrasil, she didn’t look out of place at all with the lavish decor all around.

It was so much more than he’d ever expected the two of them to have… 

And she wasn’t happy in it.

Granted, she hadn’t exactly been happy before, either… 

“I love you.” He never said it often enough before. And now knowing that it was supposed to have been the last thing he said to her before he went off to kill the prince, what felt like so long ago… 

She didn’t care much to hear it after that.

But time heals all wounds, and she managed a short laugh.

“Love you too, you jackass.” 

Already more than he could have hoped for, he felt slightly better shutting the door behind him, and pulling his black hood up over his hair, trying hard not to think of it too much like the black hood and mask of an executioner.

The halls were again empty. All staff hurrying to greet the envoy, to prepare for guests that high of honor for the first time in recent memory.

Or guests at all, for that matter.

But an empty hall only made the walk easier on him, to hike from one extreme of the castle to another.

He knew the way by now, but it still felt unfamiliar at times, and if he had any say at all, he would only trek through in the dead of night, as he once had. 

Pulling the scarf up over his nose, Erik steeled himself for just a moment before pushing the doors open. 

No one took notice, the gathered crowd all too focused on their guests to care about a shadow sneaking through the edge of the room. 

More fool, them. 

With people this easily distracted, Erik could almost think his and Eleven’s plan with the poison could have been ten times simpler. 

But that wasn’t what he needed to focus on, now. 

Coming up to stand just behind Eleven’s throne, he was finally noticed. 

The dignitary from Sniflheim only sparing a brief pause as he looked Erik over before he continued on as if nothing had changed.

Even though it clearly had.

Erik knew what he was. Knew what he looked like. 

Knew that the day this man returned to his own castle, that the rumor of his presence would spread across the kingdom in a night.

And that was exactly what he wanted. 

King Eleven was  _ protected.  _

“... It is with great pleasure that We welcome you as my fellow ruler.” The old man read from a scroll, the broken seal of the Sniflheim crest in deep blue wax. “We hope to see your kingdom restored to her former glory, and to once again enjoy the relationship Our kingdoms once did.” And with that, the man cut off, and began to roll the parchment back up. 

Trade!

That was all. A cause for celebration, not fear.

Erik nearly allowed himself to relax, but the dignitary was hardly finished. 

“You have Our thanks.” Eleven responded with the slightest incline of his head, voice echoing loudly through the room. “We wish the same. It has been far too long that Dundrasil has stood alone.”

“Quite.” The dignitary said, but with a disbelieving look, and with none of the respect he had read his own king’s letter with. “Our Queen may be forgiving, but I am less so, sire. She is young, just as you are, but hardly as foolhardy.”

Erik laid a careful hand on Eleven’s shoulder, keeping his king from doing anything rash.

But it was only another thing that this dignitary noticed.

“Dundrasilian ships have not only been seen in our waters, but have been blocking merchant ships. Scaring away our own.”

Erik knew that Eleven had been picking fights with smaller towns and cities, unaffiliated with any kingdom, but he hadn’t known that he’d been sending what few ships they had so far. 

“I must  _ humbly  _ advise you to cease this behavior before we have no choice but to retaliate.” He took a careful, appraising look around the room, and sneered. “Your kingdom could hardly handle such a blow.”

Mocking jeers go up from all corners of the room, insults flying at each of the gathered enjoy, but all silenced by Eleven’s shout.

_ “Enough!”  _

A pin drop could be heard, Eleven standing from his throne, Erik’s hand held again by his side.

“You have lost your welcome.” He spoke calmly, but Erik could tell by the rigidness of his shoulders and the shocked expression on the dignitaries’ face that he was anything but. 

Still new to ruling, young and inexperienced, Dundrasil in need of all the help She could get… They had expected Eleven to sit back, smile and thank them for their kind warning, their simple understanding. 

But Eleven was nothing they could possibly have expected. 

“Escort them off our land.” He barked the order to the stunned guards that stood by the doors. “Do not let them stray from your sight, and do not leave them until they are well inside Zwardsrust’s borders.”

“S-sire!” A different man spoke up, pushing past the other and bowing deeply. “We had not intended to offend! You have my deepest apologies!”

But Eleven would not bend. He hadn’t once before in his orders, and he was not about to turn back on his word for the likes of these. “Then, pray tell, what did you mean?”

No response.

“Dundrasil is not the weakened land you seem to think We are, and I am not going to put Her pride beneath that of yours!” 

No one dares to speak, but the guards hurry to follow his orders, all promises of accommodation for the night forgotten. 

Whether or not he had spoken for the queen or not, whether she had intended to breed animosity between herself and Eleven or not…

Dundrasil was growing stronger by the day, and Eleven would not soon forget. 

The envoy is rushed out by the fearful guards, but Eleven does not relax.

In fact, he only grows more upset, turning to pace before the throne. “They will not be traveling alone. We want Our council formed at once! Their insults today will not go unpaid!”

“Your Majesty, I implore you to think on this. Any act of aggression now will be seen as nothing else but an act of war.”

“And though it shames me to admit, they were correct. Dundrasil is still weak. We can not afford any loss, and we are not prepared to face Sniflheim’s forces.”

Eleven makes to speak, and Erik is sure he is about to order the attack anyway, when his eyes snap to another corner of the room.

To an empty seat. 

“I will reconsider.” He says instead, sounding thoroughly exhausted out of nowhere. “Thank you, dismissed.”

It’s not like him.

So much of this is out of place. The Eleven he knew wouldn’t have blown up at a single insult, but found a way to twist it back at his opponent, and only raise himself higher in the process.

God knows, he’d seen it happen enough in the beginning. 

And the Eleven he knew wouldn’t have changed his mind so easily. 

Before he could leave, Erik took his wrist in hand, and nodded at the two guards, asking for privacy. “Just a moment, please.”

They obeyed without question, waiting on the far side of the room, even with Erik there, unwilling to leave the king alone.

“Are you alright?” Erik asked, “I know you keep telling me you are, but… There’s something wrong. I can tell.”

“I-“  _ Again,  _ his eyes leave the person he’s speaking to, and all color drains from his face.

_ “Eleven.”  _

“It’s nothing.” Eleven lies, “I am just tired. Nothing more.” 

Erik’s shoulders drop. 

“Alright.” He says, “Alright. Fine. I have to get back to Mia anyway. But if you rest, and you still aren’t better-”

“Then I’ll tell you everything.” He finishes for Erik, “But I promise you, it is nothing.” Erik nods, but doesn’t make to leave right away. “Perhaps I could join you?” Eleven suggests, “It has been a fair while since I last had the opportunity to properly speak to Mia.”

It was no secret to anyone how much Mia hated the king. 

And now secret how much he wanted that fact to change. 

Erik believed that with time it would… But that wasn’t happening today, and it wasn’t happening by force. Mia would come around of her own decision, and not he, nor El, nor anyone else they had ever met would sway her before that choice was finally made.

Someday, they could be the odd sort of family that Eleven had pictured… But not yet. 

For gods’ sake, Eleven still didn’t know his name.

“Another time.” Erik looked away as the hopeful little smile dropped from the king’s face. “You still have to attend that meeting about restoring the marketplace, and then another about…” He grimaced, “About what to do about Sniflheim.” 

“Yes.. Yes, of course.” 

“We’ll be at dinner, though.” Erik added, hoping this time that Mia would really join them both, and not sit in her room until a servant was sent by with a platter. “Both of us.”

“Right. Dinner.” Eleven’s eyes darted to the side, and Erik turned to follow the look. There was no one there, only the guards left in the room, and even they were nearly too far to overhear a thing.

Not that it would matter if they did.

But before he could puzzle it out any further, he was distracted by Eleven’s hand on his shoulder, perfectly white-gloved hand moving to his jaw, encouraging him to turn back around.

“I love you, kitten.” Eleven said, smiling at him with just as much warmth and care as he had the first time he had told him, but with none of the fear of rejection. 

“Don’t call me kitten.” Erik said, but nonetheless responded in kind. “I love you, too.”

It had taken time for Eleven to risk saying such a thing. Longer still for Erik to date say it back.

He meant it, really. He had killed for Eleven. And he would again, without a shred of hesitation. 

But… He only wished that saying it didn’t make his stomach twist into knots. 


	3. A Few Wise Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Careful.” He says, unblinking eyes tearing right through Eleven’s heart. “You never know…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think there’s anything that needs a CW in here... But this chapter does give this fic it’s M rating! Nothing gets graphic, though.

“Any success?” Erik asked, carefully following the jail warden through the darkened corridors of the dungeons. 

It wasn’t a king’s place to be trudging around so far underground in the damp and muck, checking in on those who wished him harm. 

Erik had thought that this little extra duty would be one of his worst, but it felt no different.

Half the cells occupied, and half of those lined up for the gallows. 

Trespassers. Would-be thieves, murderers. Some were only desperate for money. Some whose crimes were excusable, some who would see the sun again. 

Others… 

Others, who would not. 

“Not quite yet, sir.” The jailer responded as they came to a halt outside the furthest cell.

Sitting in the corner covered in filth, was the benefactor. 

A liar, a cheat. Just two of the words that could describe him, and the kindest Erik could dredge up. 

He’d been captured on the first raid of the resistance, handed over easily in exchange for the safety of the other members.

Against his will. 

Yellow eyes like a cat’s met his, and a smile broke out across his smug face, even with teeth stained with blood. 

“You’ve beaten him?” Erik asked.

“Aye. Not too hard, mind you. Just when he won’t shut up.”

“Ever so kind to me…” The benefactor’s voice was cracked and rough, but still somehow managed to grate on Erik’s nerves more than anything. “You have my gratitude.” His head lolled to the side, filthy blonde hair falling in his eyes. 

Fifty-thousand gold. Every last coin counterfeit. 

Tens upon tens of lives lost in effort to earn that fool’s gold. 

Nothing left for him here, not a wisp of a future to look to one way or another, and he still refused to talk. 

His eyes settled on Erik, and that bloody grin took on a predatory edge. “Got far more than what I had to offer, haven’t you? I wonder what you did to earn it.” As if there was any way he could have the upper hand while chained to a wall, every last dignity stripped from him. 

But even so, Erik didn’t try to conceal his rage.

He’d nearly lost his own life to his scam. And even if it was the best mistake he’d ever make…

Erik spat on the ground and kicked the bars. Not worth the trek down here. “Do whatever it takes.”

“Sir?”

Erik turned to stalk alone back to the surface. He didn’t have much time to waste, he had dinner with his family to make, much better things to do with his time than to waste it staring at this waste of space. “You have my permission to do whatever you can think of. To make him talk.”

~~

When Eleven was finally escorted into the dining room, the simpler small one meant for his immediate family, and  _ not  _ the grand hall meant for celebration… He didn’t care that he was the last to arrive.

He was only thankful he wouldn’t have to see the set for his latest reoccurring nightmare. 

Instead, this was much, much safer.

The chair at the head of the table sat empty, his own place setting waiting, while his thief and his sister sat beside each other to his right, bickering over one thing or another, as they oft seemed to do, though his thief took the time to spare him a warm smile before returning to the argument of the night.

And to his left, sat the first two that had gained seats on his council.

Derk, and his wife Opal. 

Opal, he had seen before when he was but a child, before everything had changed. The daughter of a previous councilman, and already proving herself to be the best among her peers. 

He had been hesitant to bring anyone on at all, let alone someone who already had ties to those he and his love had…  _ Disposed of…  _ He had vouched for their loyalty, for their compassion. Sheltering him and giving him help when they had no reason to, nothing to gain from it. 

And though they had both been just as skeptical of him as he had been for them in the beginning, they both paid him the respect he was due, but it was respect he had earned.

And that was easily preferable to the respect others freely gave him for nothing more than simply  _ being.  _

“Good evening, all.” He spoke careful and quiet in the smaller room, thankful for the break. Speaking so loudly all day had only resulted in giving himself a headache. 

“Good evening to you as well, sire.” Derk and Opal responded immediately.

Mia stayed silent. 

Opal wouldn’t stand for it, and Eleven hadn’t the chance to intervene. “Young lady! You will treat His Majesty with respect!”

“There really isn’t any need-“ He and his thief spoke at once, but just moments too late.

“F _ iiiine.”  _ Mia said from where she was slouched in her chair, cheek resting in her hand, elbow on the table. “Good evening,  _ sire.”  _

Fifty different kinds of rude. 

And Eleven lived for it,  _ wishing  _ he could display the same sort of intentional indifference to those he must always be polite to.

If only the child would give him a chance… He could only imagine the silent outrage of the nobles and dignitaries if he brought her along to audiences and meetings, if he overlooked such behavior and refused to let anyone correct it.

“Thank you, Mia.” He said instead, “I was hoping to see you this evening.” 

She only huffed, drumming her fingers on the wood of the table. 

Only seconds pass between Eleven finally taking his own seat at the table, and the servants bringing out each (already tested) dish.

Eleven would be lying if he tried to claim his own crimes hadn’t already left him nervous on the best of days, but after so long a day, but today, specifically… 

Well. He knew for a fact how careful the food was prepared now, after… The  _ tragedy.  _

It smelled delicious. A flaky cut of baked haddock smothered in rich lemon dill sauce placed over a bed of herbed rice, a bowl filled to the top with a light-colored broth steaming with the scent of parsley, and a roll of fresh bread on each plate. 

All of it cooked to careful perfection, fish broiled until it only just started to blacken, and he knew that the bread would all but melt in his mouth. 

The cooks hadn’t understood his initial request to cut back on the amount served at each meal.

Really, the fish and rice or the soup and bread would’ve already made a plentiful meal on their own…

But… Looking around at the table, full for the first time since his parents died… At least these days, none of it went to waste.

And surely none of it would tonight. He had skipped breakfast after his nightmare, and had been too sick with stress to manage any lunch.

“Feeling any better?” His thief asked, pulling Eleven’s attention away from his meal. “I- your highness?” He quickly added on after a not-so subtle kick from Opal under the table. 

He didn’t need to use any special title.

Not one person at this table did.

But Opal had grown up in this environment, and simply couldn’t comprehend speaking to the crowned king, a son of god, with anything less than the upmost respect. 

Perhaps with time she would come to know him for who he was.

“I do believe I am. Thank you, dear.” His smile turned warm. ‘Dear’ clearly on the acceptable list, but Mia only turned back to her own food with a scowl. 

Just another he hoped to win over, with time.

But he hadn’t any time left to spare to speak to her now.

They hadn’t been there when he sat down.

There had been three empty seats.

But empty no longer.

Rab sits in the seat across from him, and there are three noblemen arguing over not getting anything to eat.

Rab stares him down.

“Careful.” He says, unblinking eyes tearing right through Eleven’s heart. “You never know…”

At least… Almost all of it avoids the wastebin. 

Stomach that is still twisted with hunger pains… The discomfort turns easily to nausea. 

“Are… you not going to eat?”

Eleven glanced back down at his food.

It had been tested.

But…

He wouldn’t be able to see the poison in any of this, would he? The white powder invisible against the sauce, dissolved fully within the broth. 

His drink was too dark to see a pill hiding at the bottom. 

“No.” Eleven said, pushing the plate away as the smell began to make him feel ill. “I don’t quite feel like myself, tonight.”

“Not even the soup?” He asked, as his sister scoffed at him, taking his nerves for something closer to disdain. “You haven’t eaten all day, can you at least manage it? It’s not good to skip so long.” 

_ “He poisoned my food. Who’s to say he won’t poison yours?” _

He wouldn’t ever. Eleven knew. 

He would be the last.

And for him… He could manage a little.

But even that didn’t sway the concern heavy in the room.

~~

As the door shuts behind them, and they are left to their empty room and the soft glow of candlelight, lit by the overnight workers, and soon to burn themselves out. 

Eleven let his shoulders slump, let the weight of the day melt off. 

And his love was there to stand on his toes to take the crown from his head, and plant a kiss on the bridge of his nose. 

“Long day?” He asked, as if he didn’t know. 

“Long day.” Eleven agreed, “That’s all, kitten.” 

“I told you not to call me kitten.”

“But I like it.” Eleven argued, brushing a lick of blue hair behind his ear. “It suits you.”

“How would you know? You’ve never had a cat.”

“But I don’t need one, not when I have you, my little kitten.”

He huffed our a short laugh, “Yeah, keep trying. ‘Kitten’ is not gonna stick.”

The crown placed carefully where it belonged, Eleven was once more made the center of his attention. “Keep trying. I’m sure you’ll find a good one.” 

“In time.” It was a conversation they’d had many times before, but it was one he found comfort in. Something he could rely on staying the same. Staying safe. 

His love glanced to the floor for a moment, hands hesitating on the jeweled clasp holding his cloak in place. “I’m worried.” He said not for the first, second, or even fifth time that day. 

“I know.” Eleven said.

“Promise me you’ll eat more at breakfast?”

Eleven nodded. He would at least try.

“And you’ll tell me what’s wrong? Remember you’re going to Heliodor soon. You really want to represent your Kingdom by fainting from exhaustion?”

“That won’t happen.” Eleven said, taking his hands in his own, and encouraging them to move, to begin what he had planned. “All I need is a little bit of rest.”

“Good.” All that he asked for promised on, or as close as he could get… The clasp holding it in place undone, Eleven’s cloak fell in a pile on the ground. “If all you need is rest… Then I’ll just have to make sure you get it.” Well, if that was what he thought would help… Then Eleven wasn’t going to try and stop him. 

Hands on the belt around his overcoat, and within moments those garments met the marbled floor as well, and Eleven was being guided by the ruffling of his collar to the bed, following the gentle pull like a dog on a leash.

Which- was an idea.

Perhaps not even a hard one to carry out. 

The royal family once kept purebred hounds for hunting… If he restarted that tradition, it wouldn’t be difficult at all for a collar and leash to simply go missing… 

Not with his thief here.

His  _ attack dog.  _ A smile pulled at the corner of his lip at his own little joke.

“What’s so funny?” 

“Ah… Nothing in particular.” Eleven brushed off the question, “But… Maybe I could tell you another time.” 

The  _ exact  _ theme of his thoughts made clear enough with that single line, he was grinning, and before Eleven could register his movements, he was on his back in the bed, his thief above, one hand in the sheets propping himself up, and the other on Eleven’s throat.

Not enough pressure to cut off any air… But enough to be a thrill. 

Smile wiped from his face as he wasn’t given any time to catch up before his thief was kissing him, hand on his throat moving to tangle in his hair instead, using his new grip to move Eleven how he wanted.

Breaking apart only for air, and for the freedom to instead kiss and bite down his throat, following with each painfully slowly undone button. 

His teeth on his throat, creating a sharp spark of heat and re-making a mark that had only just healed. 

There wasn’t anything to hide it, Eleven having done away with the high collars that had once kept his scar covered, but concealing the marks that his thief left on him wasn’t of any concern.

He didn’t care what was thought of it, didn’t care that the origin of the small, rosy marks would be obvious.

In fact… He  _ wanted  _ them to be seen.

Wanted it known. 

Eleven lay back, and let go. 

For the night, he wouldn’t have to worry about war, or law, or poison or prisoner, or  _ any  _ of his duties as king, only on behaving well enough, or perhaps just being enough of a brat to convince Erik to let him-

“Wait-” His voice, in a distinctly different tone than he had taken before, and the remaining buttons on Eleven’s undershirt were swiftly undone. _ “What is this?”  _

Eleven opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was his love’s eyes, wide and startled, looking down at his chest.

The second thing he noticed… 

“How… When did you get this?” His fingers lightly brushing over the mark, Eleven aware of the pain for the first time. 

Imprinted over his chest, and stretching down over a fine line to his stomach, was a sprawling, black bruise.

“I- I don’t know.” 

“How do you  _ not know?”  _ He asked, sitting up straight, and encouraging Eleven to do the same. “This… You couldn’t feel it? What all happened today? Was this the dignitary? Did something happen while you were in the dungeons? Those guards are meant to  _ protect you-“ _

“I’m fine!” Eleven cut him off, the rambling questions only serving to make his fears grow.

Not once throughout the entire day, and not once through the previous had  _ anything  _ come in contact with him that could leave such a mark. Or one for all, for that matter. Only his thief… and the marks he left… He was always more gentle than he led on. Not doing anything that could last more than a days’ time, or anything even remotely close to this… Terrible. 

The discoloration was almost akin to the stems and petals of a flower. “I don’t know. Nothing happened.”

“...You’re telling me the truth?”

Eleven stopped. Only his own rapid pulse in his ears.

A cold feeling settled into his heart. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“...You're right.” His thief relented after a moment’s pause, but the damage had been done. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I’m just… Worried. You aren’t yourself, Ellie.” 

Eleven swallowed against the rise of guilt. He knew there was something wrong. And… He supposed that he had been lying, if for nothing else his own peace of mind.

But if he acknowledged the apparitions he saw… 

That could make them real. Make them a problem that must be dealt with. 

And how was he meant to keep his kingdom tied together when it was known he was unstable?

He was all that was left. His family all gone, not a single person left to take the throne if he were indisposed… Or worse.

He was all that was left between his kingdom’s prosperity… and it’s final downfall.

He was lying for any choice of his own. 

“I know you are.” Eleven said, voice low. “I’m sorry. Truly. I’m not well, but there isn’t anything I can explain. Nothing has changed. I’m just…”

“Tired?”

“Yes.” Eleven looked up to meet his blue eyes. “That is all.”

His thief gave a short nod, and sighed. “Okay… Then, you just need to get some sleep.” It was a surrender, but Eleven knew it wouldn’t be the last of this particular discussion. While sleep deprivation could explain away any odd behavior, and in turn his lack of sleep caused by the ever growing list of problems he had to deal with… Exhaustion couldn’t leave marks all over his skin, could it? “C’mon, then.” 

Held in close to his love, fingers coming through his hair… He should be able to sleep. 

“Goodnight, pookie.”

“What in the- where are you even getting these names?  _ Please don’t call me pookie.”  _

“I could always call you your  _ own name  _ instead.”

There was a pause. Not denied outright. As if he was genuinely considering it.

“Soon.” He finally promised, “Sometime soon. Goodnight, Ellie.”

And after that… What little chance he had at sleep fled in the skip of his heart.

Something… Something he didn’t know what to call made him wish he hadn’t asked. 

He shouldn’t be listening to the tick of the grandfather clock, or watching the play of moonlight over the bed.

But as the night began to pass, he remained awake even through the eventual soft snoring above him…

He saw the edge of a shadow fall across their bed.

In his arms, in his chambers, guarded close… Eleven should feel safer than anywhere else. But even so, terrified tears began to well in the corners of his eyes.

Not a moment’s peace. 

Not a moment alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I have learned exactly how hard it is to write without using Erik’s name for any of Eleven’s POV. I may have slipped up but... Oops, I guess.   
> This might be the last of the daily chapters for a little bit, I’m giving one of the many inktober type challenges a try, and I’m not sure how writing so much is going to fit into my schedule with that as well.   
> Still shouldn’t be very long until the next chapter, though!


	4. Like a Canary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I… Suppose you are correct.” Eleven reluctantly agreed, “But I do not wish to speak ill of the dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: implications of torture in the last segment of the chapter.  
> Otherwise a little slow... But the story should pick up with the next. :>

_ “I want a herbalist here, as soon as possible.” Erik whispered to the guard by the door, “Before we get back, if you can manage.” _

_ “Sir?” _

_ “And keep this to yourself. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, it’ll be your head.”  _

…

His own words echoed through his head as their carriage bumped and lurched over the rough pebble and root strewn roads, Erik tried to keep as still as he could.

The bench across from him lay empty, aside from the pillow that Eleven’s crown had been carefully placed on. 

No, the king had vacated his seat to instead encroach in on Erik’s personal space, asleep against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder.

He’d have a hell of a crick to wake up to, and Erik’s arm had been asleep for far too long now, but…

It had been days since Eleven had gotten any proper rest, and Erik had no plans on ruining what little sleep he could manage.

But in the peaceful quiet, silence broken by the crunching of the fall leaves under the wheels and horses’ hooves and Eleven’s quiet breathing… Erik was alone with his thoughts. 

Heliodor. After Dundrasil became the laughingstock it was now, it took its former place as the most prosperous of the six kingdoms. The title easily taken as their reach grew across the land, annexing smaller towns and villages unaffiliated with any kingdom.

Dundrasil has been doing the same, albeit to hamlets. Tiny villages without even the slightest bit of value. 

But that was against the point. Heliodor was much stronger than they were, and he didn’t know what to think of their visit. Of what it would mean if it went wrong. 

Erik hadn’t ever been, and couldn’t say he’d ever thought it would be a place he’d visit. 

He’d thought, back when he still had dreams and fantasies about leaving Dundrasil behind, that it would be the same. Another bustling city he’d get lost in the underbelly of.

Another pretty exterior hiding horrible truths just behind the paint. 

And against all the odds, here he was halfway through the mountain pass. 

He could only hope the result was worth the journey.

But it was worth a shot, at least.

Dundrasil needed allies, and Heliodor had once been in close contact. 

King Carnelian was close friends with King Irwin, and King Robert before him.

But while that fact should ease his worrying, somehow it only made it worse.

Three generations of Dundrasilian royalty to a single Heliodorian one. Something about that just didn’t sit right. Curses weren’t something Erik put any stock in, but ‘cursed’ was one word he could think up to describe this situation. 

Eleven had hoped to reforge that old alliance, but…

Erik had come along for a reason. 

Not only did he not trust anyone else to protect him properly outside their own borders… He simply didn’t want to leave Eleven on his own at the moment, with how out of sorts he had been in recent days.

All he needed was rest…

Erik wasn’t a fool, he knew when he was being lied to. Days passed in the same routine. He’s fine. He just needs sleep. He just isn’t hungry.

It could be as simple as stress. He was overworked. But that was perfectly understandable. There wouldn’t be any real need for him to hide something so simple-

Their carriage hit a bump, and this time the sudden motion was enough to jolt Eleven awake. It took a few moments for him to relax, eyes darting around the little enclosed space as if looking for something before he relaxed. 

“My apologies.” He mutters, wiping drool from his face. He’d been more deeply asleep than Erik had realized. “I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it. You needed it.”

“I suppose I did.” Eleven winces as Erik rolls his shoulder and a loud crack sounds out as the tension pops. “I’m not quite used to these things.”

It made sense, considering it was only the third time he’s been in it, and the first time it was for any considerable length of time.

Having lived in the castle for all his life… And his only previous trips being within his own kingdom. 

Trips short enough to walk, had he not been royalty.

The road goes smooth beneath them. Out of the pass, and back on a proper road.

Heliodor wasn’t far now.

“I’m sorry for using you as a pillow.”

But somehow… Maybe it’s because of how brand-new it all is, maybe it was getting that little bit of sleep, but Eleven seemed more like his usual self.

“You say that as if you don’t usually do that every night anyway.” Awkward as Eleven had been with touch at first, it didn’t last very long. “Don’t worry about it.” But nights Eleven spent tucked against Erik’s side seemed far in the past.

Eleven manages a smile, a  _ real  _ one, not the half-forced ones he’s been giving. 

Maybe it  _ was  _ just work giving him trouble.

Maybe this trip would be worth more than Erik thought. 

“I can’t help but be a little apprehensive.” Eleven says, pulling the curtain back just enough to see through.

The towers of Heliodor’s Castle could be seen just through the early light. Not far now at all. “I can’t remember ever meeting King Carnelian, but I often saw Princess Jade. It will be good to see her again, and Gemma should be with her.”

Erik had heard the names before. Told what Eleven saw as grand stories of childhood fun, that to Erik’s ears… Just sounded sad. Two people he was allowed to be friends with, two people he only saw on occasion, and even then… Held at a distance. 

Eleven hadn’t ever known normalcy. And even now...

The carriage came to a stop.

No time left to procrastinate. 

Stepping out of the carriage first, Erik did a quick headcount of those around him.

Not one person out of place, and a quick scan around the area… No one that  _ looked  _ out of place. 

A few quick signals, and he had a few chosen guards in formation.

Even if  _ Erik  _ was his head of guard, and his own personal bodyguard… He wasn’t the one meant to take any wounds in Eleven’s place. 

Eleven stepped down in time for the fanfare to begin, looking entirely out of his element as his title was announced to the waiting crowds.

He took a moment to get his bearings, or at least that’s what Erik thinks, as he watches his eyes dart around, as if he was looking for something.

Despite being overwhelmed, he relaxes tremendously after a quick glance around. He and his envoy are escorted to the throne room. 

Erik stayed close. A handy little benefit of being the King’s bodyguard. No one would look twice at what little space was left between them.

It isn’t terribly common for a ruler to make this journey themselves, it would have been more than enough to send a letter with an official, but Eleven wanted to show Carnelian this extra length of respect in hopes it would sway his opinion. 

Carnelian sits in one throne, and a young woman with long black hair in another. The princess, Erik guesses. 

But standing behind Carnelian’s throne, not unlike the way he does to Eleven’s, is a man in purple robes, and grayish skin, as if he was gravely ill. Though - bright purple lipstick. It could all simply be make-up. 

But that didn’t answer the question as to who the man was.

Not a bodyguard. 

An advisor?

Erik more or less tunes out the polite back-and-forth, instead focusing on the people around them and how they behave. 

Introductions are easily enough made, and even past all the fake smiles and how-do’s, it all seemed genuinely safe. 

Maybe this was just what things were like outside of Dundrasil.

Maybe elsewhere it was simply just safe. 

Erik actually finds himself relaxing just a bit more.

Whoever has been tailing him isn’t here, and Eleven is so calm it’s rubbing off on him.

After it all comes to a close, relatively well, Erik hazards a guess, they are promised a place to stay for the night.

The man at the king's shoulder doesn’t look happy. As Eleven graciously accepts the over. Mouth turned into a grimace.

“Now, King Eleven, if you could just wait a few more moments.”

Eleven stops, and as such, so does Erik.

Carnelian notices him at last. “Ah, there’s no need for your bodyguard to remain. I promise that you are safe here.”

Erik opens his mouth to speak, to tell Carnelian that he will be staying-

“My bodyguard will remain with me, if it’s all the same.” Eleven said first.

And- Erik closed his mouth. He  _ really  _ did seem better.

“Of course.” Carnelian said as if it truly didn’t matter.

It took a few moments, but before long they were alone. The king and his daughter, Eleven and Erik, and a handful of guards and a single servant girl. 

“Eleven!” Carnelian took on an entirely different tone, the stoic ruler gone entirely in the new, warm welcome. “Why, I haven’t seen you since you were but a child! It is good to see you well.”

Eleven bows again. “Likewise, your highness.”

Carnelian barks out a loud laugh, startling Eleven, but all else seem accustomed to it. “There is no need for such formality behind closed doors. You are family, child.” 

“Thank you.” Eleven managed, genuinely surprised. Formality was a must within his own family. Only recently had he dared try to do away with any little bit of it. But to forget all of it, even for a brief amount of time, in the presence of another ruler? He would struggle. 

The smile on the King’s face faded as he watched Eleven struggle to find the correct way to respond.

“You have my condolences. For what happened to Lord Robert. Though…” He sighs, shaking his head. “I must admit his passing could be exactly what Dundrasil needed. He was a good King in his time… But the loss of your dear parents cost him much. He was no longer fit to rule.”

Erik watches as Eleven goes rigid. People normally kept talk of his grandfather to a minimum, for many reasons. Neither of them were used to it being brought up so casually. 

“I… Suppose you are correct.” Eleven reluctantly agreed, “But I do not wish to speak ill of the dead.” 

“Of course. My apologies.” Carnelian looked as if he had truly expected any other response.

And the  _ apologies.  _

Erik had begun to hear that word so often it hardly had any meaning left. Apologies, condolences, all of it… The words of course  _ had  _ meanings and definitions, but when these people used them, it wasn’t ever because they  _ meant them.  _

And Erik was growing tired of it. 

But fake words or not, the professional facade has vanished, leaving Jade and the single servant girl - who Erik assumed must be Gemma, free to speak as they pleased. 

“Ellie!” Erik took a step back just in time for the bubbly girl to throw her arms around her old friend.

Erik knew she was safe, but he itches to pry her away nonetheless. 

Out of place and feeling like an intruder now, Erik did his best to stay on the sidelines.

Until their simple conversation took a turn.

“What’s happened to you?” Gemma asked, “You look horrible!” 

He doesn’t know these women but he has been told of them.

As distant as they had to be when Rab was around, they were the closest Eleven had to friends and family. 

For a moment, he wonders why he’s rebuilding Dundrasil at all, when he could likely just have moved here.

“I’m quite alright.” Eleven tried to reassure her with the same placating lie he gave Erik, but Gemma just pouted. 

“Liar. You’ve got circles under your eyes, and you’ve lost weight since I saw you last. Always been a little skinny, you. But  _ still.”  _

“She’s right.” Jade spoke up for the first time since her introduction was made. “You do look ill.”

More or less backed into a corner, Eleven relented. “I’m not I’ll.” He lied, “I’m simply overworked.”

Gemma stopped, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “It’s your grandad, isn’t it?”

“I-” Eleven stuttered for a moment, thrown off track. Gemma was far more correct than she could possibly know. “I suppose so.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

“I’m fine.” Eleven tried again. 

“Anything at all?” Gemma pressed, stubbornly refusing to take no for an answer. “Can we send you back with something? Or lend you some workers?”

“I don’t need anything Gemma, thank you.” 

“I can at least be there for you while you grieve. I can at least be a comfort, can’t I?”

Erik wants to tell her she can  _ at least  _ be quiet. Engaged to Princess Jade, she should understand the importance of keeping poor health and struggles quiet. But here she was, parading around Eleven’s mental state - well… Very few were around to hear.

“What do you think, Jade?” 

Jade, who had remained more or less silent until this point, only speaking when spoken to, as someone in her position should, smiled. “I think you should go,” she said, turning to look at her father. “In fact, I do believe I should go as well. If I have your permission?” 

Carnelian hesitated to answer. It’s one thing to allow someone like Gemma to go. 

Another to allow his daughter to leave for a kingdom like Dundrasil.

The man at his side leaned down to whisper something in the King’s ear. 

And Carnelian’s expression closed off. Easily turning unreadable, and inspiring a bad feeling in the pit of Erik’s stomach.

“Of course you may go.” He answered, against Erik’s silent prayers. “It would be a perfect opportunity for you to learn how our allies function.”

The carriage ride back would be cramped to say the least.

But it wasn’t any chance of lost space or awkwardness that made Erik feel ill at ease.

~~

Blood matting in his hair, and the taste of copper strong in his mouth… He finally came to his own realization. 

No one is coming. 

Too long he had to live in this waste dump of a kingdom. Too long he had to play nice with its citizens and play pretend in that old church, spreading rumors and promises of wealth in exchange for the prince’s head. 

King Robert would have been easy enough to control. To dispose of, if necessary. His council filled to bursting with people all too willing to do anything to keep their own status.

But the prince… 

He was an unknown. Something they couldn’t predict.

And now for sure something they could not easily control.

He had thought he’d make his way back home when all was said and done. But months had passed, and he still sat rotting in a cell. No sign of help no matter what.

Abandoned.

The slam of a door.

He jolted in place, and though he’d been doing all in his power to hide it, he couldn’t suppress the terror shooting through him. 

Every day, something new.

The bandages around his hand were pulled too tight. Cutting off the blood flow. Little more done to keep the wound from killing him. 

Just hardly enough.

And he wasn’t ready for what came next.

Boots stomping down the hall, and coming to a halt outside his cell, his tormentor backlit by the torch burning low.

“Good morning. Are you ready to talk, or do you still need some time to think on it?”

He remained quiet, heart in his throat. 

The warden sighed, and rolled his head to the side, as if this was all just a mild inconvenience. His hand went for his keys. “Alright. Your choice.”

“My name is Jasper!” 

The keys went back to their place on his belt. 

“My name is Jasper.” He repeated, feeling all fight rush away. He’d always been good at slipping from place to place with little effort on his own part. Climbing ranks and earning trust with what others saw as simple complacency. But he was hardly such. “I- I’ll talk. In exchange for my life.” 

The warden smiled, light glinting off his teeth. “I’m afraid that isn’t up to me.”


	5. Lines in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see.” Eleven said, and nothing more was spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW this chapter.

It felt as if everything fell apart the moment they returned. 

No herbalists here to help with Eleven’s state, and instead…

Plenty of meetings with the warden and the  _ former  _ benefactor. 

“You don’t really plan on letting him live, do you?” Name now known, but still hidden to anyone outside of the new holding cell. He was responsible for the deaths of countless people taking up his fool’s errand for Eleven’s head, and who knew if that was all he did. For all they knew… 

“I don’t know.” He sounded defeated. Sounded more tired than Erik had ever heard. More weary than his mere nineteen years should allow. “No matter what, he isn’t going to walk free, but… I’m sick of death.”

Erik nearly had to strain to hear the whispered confession.

“I’m tired of it, sweetheart. I’m sick of grieving. Of guilt. Of…” He shrugged. “I don’t want to kill anymore.”

Erik stopped what he was doing, let the whetstone come to a halt against his blade.

It wasn’t often they both had time to spare like this, time to simply enjoy one another’s company without encroaching on time meant for something else, from work to sleep.

Maybe this is what Eleven had been waiting for.

“Is this what’s been troubling you?” He asked.

Another shrug. Noncommittal. 

It wasn’t the problem, but it was part of it.

“You don’t have to have him put to death.” Erik said, “Or anyone else, anymore. Put a stop to it if you want.”

“That’s…” Eleven shook his head, staring off at nothing from where he sat across from Erik. “I could. And I could send a message that I’m soft. That Dundrasil is.”

“It’s not that simple.” Erik tried to counter. “It would show that you’re compassionate, that you aren’t like Lord Robert was-”

“You’re right.” Eleven looked up suddenly, “It  _ isn’t that simple.  _ So stop pretending that it is.”

Taken back by the sudden change, Erik didn’t know how to respond. What to say. 

“And it isn’t just the future. What about everyone that came before? I don’t understand you.”

“What-” Erik barely managed to get out.

“Why don’t you grieve? Where is your guilt?” Eleven wasn’t looking at him. Rather, his eyes were moving from his hands, to just below Erik’s face.

As if he couldn’t bring himself to look up any further. “You sleep like the innocent. How does all that you’ve done not cloud your mind? How do you sleep so sweetly with….” he trailed off. “Every moment awake is a reminder of what I did. My own grandfather. The whole council. More since then. I’ve sent my people off to die for selfish causes. I don’t… I have no peace from the ghost of their memory.” 

Erik swallowed hard against fresh guilt. “I didn’t know it affected you. I thought… I thought you were used to seeing death.” 

“I am accustomed to it.” Eleven said, repeating the same words he’d spoken before, when Erik had been the one breaking down over the death of a stranger. “But I will never be used to it.” 

“It doesn’t bother me.” Erik confessed, feeling ashamed over his complete lack of emotion. He’d thought it beneficial at first, but now… It made him feel inhuman. “I feel sick after I kill. It makes me feel horrible for days. But… Then it goes away. Like it never happened. I don’t grieve. I don’t… I kill them, and I never think of them again.” 

“I see.” Eleven said, and nothing more was spoken. 

~~

Things had changed after their talk. Eleven drifted further into himself, and Erik was unable to do anything to pull him back out. 

Not for like of trying, but for the simple lack of  _ time.  _

A bout of illness, an imbalance of the humors, whatever it was afflicting the king, all Erik could do was wait.

There were herbalists coming, and he had a job to do.

Coming back with them to help… Please. All Princess Jade’s presence meant was extra work. Extra stress. 

Late nights shuffling the guards around, never the same person two nights in a row, splitting them as evenly as he could between Jade and Eleven, taking some of them himself.

Leaving precious little time for anything else.

Even seeing if her arrival had done  _ anything  _ to lift Ellie’s spirits after he dragged them down to hell. 

But now… Lunch. 

At the very least he’d be able to have a couple of hours to spend with Eleven and Mia both, to try and catch any news of what he had missed in the past few days, to get a gauge on Eleven’s condition. 

“Sir, wait! Don’t-”

Gemma. 

Erik didn’t have time to correct, but tried anyway.

A stupid move, he knew.

Pain shot up from his ankle as it twisted, and there wasn’t anything within reach to stop himself from falling. 

The next thing he knew, he saw staring up at the vaulted ceilings from the bottom of the sweeping staircase, still halfway on them.

Ears ringing and the patterns above him doing an odd sort of dance…

What a spectacle he was making now, captain of the guard taking a tumble down a set of stairs. 

“Oh, dear.” Blonde hair in his field of vision, and Gemma leaning down towards him. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Peachy.” Erik grunted, and tried to pry himself from the marble floor. Dazedly, he noticed the runner was missing.

“I tried to warn ‘ya. I had your maids take the runner out to be cleaned. It doesn’t look like they’ve done even half a job of anythin’ since I left. I shoulda asked first, but I took it upon myself to help out a bit.” 

...No, that was his own fault. Still didn’t really respond well to being called ‘sir,’ by anyone really. “No, don’t worry about it. I should’ve been paying attention. Thank you, Gemma.” 

Dizzy, Erik only made it about halfway up before the pain in his leg made itself known once more. 

Then, it was only Gemma that kept him from crashing right back down to the marble.

“Oh, lord. Is it broken? Can I check?”

“No, I’m fine.” Erik said through gritted teeth, pulling away from the girl, and bracing himself against the wall, instead. 

He knew broken bones. “I just need to walk it off.” 

Gemma poured at him, and raised one brow. “Ellie says you still don’t have any healers on staff.”

“...That’s true.”

“Who are you going to have look that over?” His silence was answer enough. “Then I’m the closest you’ve got. Come on, sit down.”

Guards lined the halls. Erik was  _ not  _ about to have a full physical in the middle of the castle. “Isn’t there somewhere else we can go, at least?”  _ I’m going to be late... _

“Hmm… Depends on how far. Where's your room?” 

“Around the corner, down the hall.” Erik gave the reluctant answer. “Door next to the painting of-”

“The falls behind the castle? I know the room. It used to be mine and my grandfather’s. Come on, up you go.” 

_ That  _ succeeded in making Erik feel all different kinds of weird. 

Had Eleven put him in that room on purpose? Had he even been the one to decide on that arrangement? 

But any such thoughts were pushed to the wayside as Gemma all but  _ lifted  _ him up, an arm around his back and hurrying them down the path she knew so well.

…What exactly did Gemma do, again?

“So… What’s your name?” She asked before Erik could come up with any of his own.

“Classified.”

“Really?”

“Good enough as.” Erik grunted as his bad foot hit the ground. Had she dropped him on  _ purpose, or…  _

But she took the non-answer just as well as she would’ve taken the truth, moving on to another topic. “I hear you’re our dear Eleven’s…”

“Whatever you heard, it’s probably true.”

“Well, in that case, mr.  _ Classified…  _ I heard that you came outta the blue one day, and Ellie greeted you like an old friend. That you got your job, top of the ladder right then and there.”

“You heard right.” Erik said. Even if that wasn’t  _ strictly  _ true… It was as close to the truth as anyone had. 

Her questions came to a stop just long enough to get the door open, and to get Erik to his own bed. 

“There.” Erik relaxed back on the sheets he hadn’t the chance to actually  _ sleep  _ on in days. “Thanks, but I’m fine now.”

“Nonsense!” Gemma said, all too cheerfully. “If it’s broken, we’ll need to get someone to see you.” 

“It’s really not-”

“And if it isn’t, I’m good enough to patch you right up.” 

And with no more ceremony, she started on the laces of his right boot.

As if she  _ didn’t  _ know who he was.

As if she wasn’t scared.

...And frankly, at this point, Erik was the one afraid. 

“You really don’t need to-”

“Of course I do! It’s my fault you fell.”

Erik gave up. One way or another it seemed he was getting medical attention.

Boot slid off, and his trouser leg rolled up to his knee, he could see that his leg was not broken.

But it wasn’t fine, either.

“Little swollen…” Gemma mumbled to herself, ignoring Erik’s jolt as she pressed right against what was soon going to be a bruise. “Probably just a sprain. I can get you bandaged up, keep the joint steady, let it heal.”

“There’s no need-” Erik cut off as she pulled a length of gauze from her bag.

Of course.

“Ellie says he doesn’t know your name.”

Erik nearly groaned.  _ Of course. _ “No, he doesn’t.”

“And I just want to know-” He had to swallow back a yelp as the bandage began to tie on, right against the swelling. “-what your goal is.”

“My  _ goal?”  _ Erik hoped he didn’t look as incredulous as he sounded.

“Yep!”

“My goal… I don’t know what you want.”

“I want to know what you’re doing with Ellie.” Gemma took on a more serious tone.

“I’m his bodyguard.” He thought that was clear enough.

“His  _ bodyguard  _ who came out of nowhere, and immediately started sleeping with him.”

_ Ah.  _ “So that’s it.”

Gemma hummed in affirmation as she tied the bandage in place. 

“I love him.” Erik said easily enough, that uncertainty still there. For what reason… He didn’t know. “My goal is to keep him safe. Keep my family safe, too. I don’t have any plans to… do anything else. I just want Ellie well.”

“Then why isn’t he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not tell him your name?” Gemma suggested, rising off the floor and dusting off her skirt. 

“My name… It was to keep myself safe.”

“‘Was’, huh?” Gemma took a seat next to him, as if she  _ wasn’t  _ currently threatening him in all but words. “There's a rumor in the kitchens, that just before Lord Robert died, that Ellie was caught bein’ all intimate with a stranger. A stranger with blue hair.”

“You got me.” Erik admitted easily enough, Gemma hardly the first to connect those two little facts, but… the mention of Lord Robert threw him off. What did she  _ know? _

“So it was for safety, then. I don’t blame Ellie for finding comfort where he could. And I didn’t really think you were out to hurt him. But… You’re safe now. Why keep your name secret, now?”

Erik didn’t respond. It was… He didn’t know anymore.

He was afraid that once Eleven knew everything…

He was afraid…

He was just afraid, with no cause, no reason, no purpose. 

“It’s your choice, of course. But Ellie isn’t well. I think he could use a little comfort, don’t you?”

“I-” Erik began, just to be cut off by a knock on his door. 

“Erik? It’s me. I heard you got hurt.”

Damn how fast news traveled in this place.

“I just wanted to check in, see? You up for a visitor?” Derk called through the door.

Gemma got up from her seat. “Let him in, you should be fine, now.”

“Thank you, Gemma.” Erik said, his gratitude genuine… Even if she had forced this little talk. “...And my name is Erik.”

“Well then, Erik.” Gemma beamed at him, “I think you ought to tell Ellie that. And,” she added on, “I’ll let him know why you aren’t at lunch.”

“I think I will.” Erik said, and watched as the two of them passed each other, casting uncertain glances. 

Derk looked him up and down with a dour expression, and held out a cane. “Heard it was your leg. Thought you might need this.”

“I’m not an old man, I don’t need a cane.”

“It’s a crutch. Just ‘til you can put weight on it.” He rolled his eyes as Erik stayed still. “How’d you reckon you’re gonna get around without it?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Erik took the crutch, and stood.

“This isn’t going to be the end of it, Erik.” 

Erik sighed, and leaned onto the crutch. His leg wouldn’t take any of his weight. “End of what?” He didn’t make any attempt to hide his frustrations. 

One year, and he’d managed to avoid injury. One year, and he breaks that streak by falling down the stairs.

“What do you think?” Derk asks, gesturing to the bandaging around his foot and ankle. “This is just the start. You’re going to get hurt again, protecting him.”

“It’s my job.”

“Is it your job to die for him?”

Actually, it _was._ Just a game of making sure he wasn’t. “It’s just a sprain. It’ll be better by the end of the month, it’s not going to kill me.”

Derk sighed, and accepted his defeat. If Erik wouldn’t listen… It wasn’t up to him to make him. 

“Someday, you’re going to have to make a choice. Keep killing for him, keep getting hurt, keep being the body that keeps his bed warm, or give this up. Keep your sister’s respect, your friendships, your life.” 

“It won’t come to that.” Erik said, staring at the ground, at the bandages. It wouldn’t. 

“Do you really believe that?” 

As if he were staring at the truth and refusing to believe it. As if he was blind.

White hot fury sparked in his chest.

“Then what does that make you?” 

“Erik-”

“You’re a hypocrite, Derk.” Erik spoke coldly, the realization setting in. “Talking like you’re innocent of this. What happens to you if I quit? You’d keep your seat. Opal, too. And if I left mine, if I left Eleven… Where am I supposed to go?”

“I doubt his highness would leave you in the cold.” Derk said almost hesitantly, like he didn’t want to plant the idea.

Erik snarled. So was that it? Derk just didn’t want Erik in such a high place? “So is he a bad man or not? You aren’t being very clear.”

“Erik, mate, that isn’t what I mean-”

“Then what do you mean?” Erik demanded. “Am I safe here or not? Is Ellie using me or not? In case you’ve forgotten, it’s  _ me  _ keeping you safe here. The blood on my hands is for you, too. Not just Ellie.”

Derk didn’t respond.

“Why is it,” Erik asked one last question, “that you don’t want me to be happy?”

~~

So close to the truth… and yet, Eleven almost didn’t want it. There was a terrible feeling in his gut about what Jasper had to tell…

Sick of death or not, he almost wanted to send him to the gallows before he even knew.

But… That would be more than just plain foolish. If Jasper had information of any kind, then he needed it. 

He just wished that the ghosts would stay silent in these matters.

Eleven was no idiot, he knew that whatever he agreed to give Jasper he wouldn’t likely follow through with.

His days were numbered, one way or another.

Lavender, a gentle color against the rest of the gold of his castle distracted Eleven from his thoughts.

The hem of an evening gown. 

“Princess Jade.” He greeted, without looking up. 

He didn’t want to risk seeing the dead, and lucky enough, it was easy to identify most by clothing and shoes. 

No one else in the kingdom wore soft colors like this. Dundrasil was vibrant.

...Maybe he should change that.

Pastels were ever so gentle on the eye. 

“King Eleven.” She responded, and paused. “I do not recall it to be proper to speak to each other while looking at one’s shoes.”

It sounded as though she wanted to laugh at him.

Better that, than asking what was wrong. 

Heart beating out an unsteady rhythm, Eleven looked up. 

And to his eternal relief, her face was her own.

No blue and blood to be seen, not the face of a specter obscuring her own. “My apologies.” 

She smirked, then noticed the door he had emerged from.

A frown replaced her more familiar expression. “I was just on my way to meet with Gemma for dinner. Care to walk with me?”

“Of course.” Eleven nods to the guard, and together they walk in stride.

That was something raised into both of them. Back straight, head up.

A certain power they were both meant to show at all times. 

“You were in the dungeons.” She observes.

“Indeed.”

“Why?”

“We have a prisoner who knows who is behind the murder of my parents.” Eleven explained. “We hope to reach a deal with him, in exchange for his information.

And… I suspect he knows the truth behind my grandfather’s demise, as well.”

_ “Oh.”  _ Jade comes to a halt. “My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Eleven says, unprepared for her arms that wrap around him, or her head ticking over his shoulder.

For a moment, Eleven is a statue. Disapproving figures all around, sneering and shaking their heads.

But…

They aren’t real. 

They stopped him all through his childhood, but no longer.

Awkward as it feels to be in contact with anyone… Eleven holds her back. “Thank you.” He says again, meaning it this time.

“You’ve had a rough time.” Jade says softly as she pulls away, “I hope he has the information you need… And I hope it brings you closure. You deserve some peace.”

Eleven nods, unsure of how to respond. 

She keeps walking with him, and he hardly hears her conversation through the static in his mind and the stars in his vision, all his focus on simply staying awake and upright. 

All these sleepless nights… Picking at his dinners, Erik being far too busy to hang around and make sure he at least eats some soup… He knows it isn’t far until he’ll give in, one way or another. 

A flash of blue caught his eye, and it shocked him into wakefulness.

Laying in the center of the floor, was an entire step of wolfsbane, carefully pressed and dried.

Two petals missing.

“Eleven?” Jade said, concerned as though she could hear the frantic beating of his heart, “What is that? What’s wrong?”

Her voice was clear.

It was his own mind that was supplying the deafening pitch.

His own stomach that gave the painful lurch.

He’d had all the wolfsbane burned.

There shouldn’t-

Darkness swirled.

“Your Majesty!”

And the blackness took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is when the fun begins!


	6. Abstract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…” The word fine died on his tongue. It was a lie. It always had been. Difference now… There was no act to keep up.  
> He’d gone mad, and there wasn’t anything to change that. “I’m not well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Non-graphic nightmare sequence about hanging. Skip from ‘ringing of a church bell.’ To ‘Awake...’ to avoid.

“Your majesty!” Voices all chiming in all at once as the world tipped, colors and light swimming in and out of focus.

The clatter of his crown on the floor.

That wasn’t good… Bad luck, he was always told.

Like breaking a mirror. 

“Someone! Go get someone!” 

Eleven heard the panic, heard it spread… But spots in his vision… the blue of the wolfsbane...

He closed his eyes, and gave in to the vertigo.

And never had he made a worse mistake. 

The ringing of a church bell.

The scratch of rough rope around his neck. 

“I’m sorry to see it come to this.”

Eleven wasn’t in the cathedrals. He wasn’t in the gallows. But he knew what was happening all the same.

He’d seen it enough times.

Hands tied wrist to wrist behind his back… and another rope hanging like a necklace. 

Just waiting for the ground to fall away from him. 

“I just want you to be safe, Eleven.” Rab stood by the lever, and refused to look back at his grandson.

Fitting… 

Rab had died surrounded by others, even as they couldn’t do a thing to help him. But Eleven…

He was to face the price of his sins alone. 

“But I see now that it’s pointless.”

“Grandfather-” Eleven tried to speak, but it was as if the sound of his voice was blocked. Completely cut off from the man on the ground.

“No matter what I do, there’s always going to be another danger right around the corner.” A deep, shuddering sigh. 

The kind meant to force back tears. 

“You know I love you.”

His hand tightened around the handle.

“Grandfather!”

“But… I think this is the only way, now. One way or another, I won’t be around forever. They’ll get to you eventually…”

It wasn’t true. 

Eleven had survived without him. He would continue to, he was doing  _ better-  _ he just… 

It  _ was  _ Rab. It was his grandfather keeping him from peace. From the safety he cared for so much. 

He’d never see sense, even if he could hear Eleven’s arguments.

_ Just a dream. _

Eleven said it like a mantra, over and over as Rab continued to defend his choice.

_ Just a dream. Just a dream. _

“...It would be best to end it all now before they do it for me, you understand?”

_ Just a dream. _

_ Just a dream. _

The sound of the lever pulling, a moment of weightlessness-

And he was awake before his grandfather could carry out his threat.

Awake…

But still terrified.

Everything in a haze, unconsciousness hardly as restful as sleep, and  _ sleep…  _

Sleep was a luxury he could no longer afford.

Terrible vision after terrible vision… it simply wasn’t worth it.

And with the ghosts creeping closer and closer…

He knew no peace. 

Nothing made sense.

Nothing was safe.

The wolfsbane in the corridor… His love’s absence.

Jade and Gemma… Why were they here?

Gemma lived in Heliodor now, and Jade couldn’t leave her post.

The world went dark again.

In and out, day and night. The door locked. Latched.

Keeping the monsters inside with him.

No meetings. No audiences.

Just the whispers in his ears.

_ Not safe. Not safe.  _

Door locked. No one in, no one out. 

“Your Majesty!” A call came through the door that sent cold terror through Eleven’s heart.  _ Not my thief. Not safe.  _

“You are needed in the throne room!” Still talking… Even though Eleven didn’t want them there. “My apologies for the disturbance, but we cannot delay your meetings any longer!

_ Meetings… _

_ “Don’t listen…”  _ one of the apparitions whispered in his ear.  _ “It isn’t safe for you… They’re just waiting for the right moment to strike. Stay here. Stay where you’re safe.” _

Eleven nodded slowly. 

They were right.

All of them.

He wasn’t safe out there. But…

The ghosts couldn’t touch him. They couldn’t hurt him. They had no knives, they could carry no poison. 

Even with them here, he was safer than he was out there.

The pounding on the door continued. “Your Majesty!”

Eleven grit his teeth.  _ “Begone!”  _ He bellowed, and at long, long last…

The guard left.

But Eleven was hardly alone. 

The murmuring in his ears only grew louder. 

“Stop…” He begged, but none of the ghosts listened. “Please…” 

this was his own hell.

He brought this upon himself, and everything else was simply out of his control.  _ “Please…” _

Hands pressed hard over his ears, but you can’t block out sounds within your own mind. 

Eleven sunk to the floor in the corner of his room, the cold marble doing nothing to ground him.

_ “Please…” _

Another sound from the door.

But-

It wasn’t a knock.

The lock was being picked.

El felt sick.

“Go…” His voice wavered as the handle moved, and sound cut out entirely as the door opened-

Then all the tension fled.

The thief.

It was just his thief. 

But… Eleven didn’t like the look on his face. Didn’t like the platter he held, balanced on one hand. 

The murmuring started anew.

“Hey…” He spoke softly, like trying to calm a cornered cat. Approaching the same way. Slow, deliberate movements. Trying not to scare him. “How you feeling?”

“I…” The word  _ fine  _ died on his tongue. It was a lie. It always had been. Difference now… There was no act to keep up.

He’d gone mad, and there wasn’t anything to change that. “I’m not well.”

His face fell. Eleven finally telling the truth… But far too late to help. He settled down on the floor by Eleven, just within reach. The platter placed between them. “You need to sleep, Ellie.”

“I can’t.” Eleven said. 

The dreams were somehow worse than reality. 

“Will you at least eat?” He sounded hopeful. The first step in recovery is admitting a problem, but… He lifted the cloche from the platter. Broth. Plain bread. Hard cheese.

Simple.

But…

_ “You can’t see the wolfsbane.”  _ He was carefully reminded, Rab peering down at the food.

A single ruby droplet landing in the broth.

It made no splash.

It was not real. 

_ “I didn’t see it. Didn’t really taste it, either. You’re better off skipping.” _

“I can’t.” Eleven said again. He didn’t know how many hands the food went through to get here. Even if his love didn’t mean to poison him… He couldn’t know.

Not after… There was still aconite in the kingdom. After he thought it all destroyed. Uprooted and burned far away from civilization.

“Why not? Can you at least tell me why?”

“It… it’s not safe.” Eleven tried to explain, glancing away from the food as his stomach rumbled. He tried not to think about how long it had been… “It could be poisoned.”

“Ellie…” His assassin sounded heartbroken. “Is this about the flower? I told you, we got rid of it, we searched the entire castle. There’s no more. It’s not poisoned, I promise.”

_ “Liar, liar.”  _ The ghosts chanted together.

Eleven didn’t move. The smell turned his stomach. 

“Here, look. I’ll eat some, too. Okay?” Spoon in the soup, halfway to his mouth. 

_ “No!”  _ Eleven called out, lunging to take it away. Him eating it wouldn’t prove anything.

At best… It would be one safe meal out of many.

At worst… He would lose the one person he could trust.

“Ellie…”

“Please… Please, no.” King of Dundrasil. Not above begging. “I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

“I thought you wanted to fix Dundrasil. You can’t do that dead.”

Eleven felt tears prick in his eyes. He  _ knew  _ that. Of course he did.

But that didn’t change everything he knew.

Everything had changed.

Now that he knew…

“Eleven…  _ Please  _ tell me what’s wrong. This goes beyond being tired now, I think you know. We’re all worried about you.”

“Can’t.” Eleven said. One word. All he could manage. “I want to… I want to… But... I can’t.”

“Fine.” His assassin said, more resigned than angry, and stood. Leaving the platter where it lay. A hope that Eleven would change his mind… But cruel all the same.

The smell would tempt him, sending his stomach cramping with hunger pangs… But he wouldn’t eat it. 

“I’ll be back later, El. Try to rest.” 

“I will.”

“Is there something I can bring you? Anything at all?”

Eleven didn’t respond. Ashamed of so much… But powerless to change it.

“Okay. Goodnight, Ellie.”

The door was shut.

And he was again left alone to his demons. 

~~

The door closed behind him, and it was all Erik could do to not throw a fit.

Ever since this started… Ever since that first morning he noticed Eleven acting off, he’d done everything he could to get the king to open up.

It hadn’t  _ ever  _ been a problem before, and now…

What it ended up taking was a mental break. Just for him to admit something was wrong. 

“How is he?” Jade asked from where she sat on the stairs by the throne, the throne room their temporary safe haven. “Did he say anything?”

Erik shook his head. And Jade sighed. 

The only one there to have seen the moment the last thread snapped. 

Low blood sugar, and the spike in pressure from the shock of the flower… It was too much for Eleven’s exhausted mind and body to handle. 

And he was doing himself no favors.

“Did he at least eat?” Gemma asked, and again, Erik had to tell them no.

He’d resented their presence to start with, but now…

He was grateful for their help. 

After all… Dundrasil was without a king… and Erik alone couldn’t make it seem as though Eleven was still in power. Not when he wouldn’t appear for any issue.

Not when the castle was all but shut off… which did not bode well for public opinion.

“Perhaps we should go public.” Gemma said, slowly getting up from where she had been sitting next to Jade. “Tell the truth, or… At least that he isn’t well.”

“It might not be unwise.” Jade added in.

But Erik… He didn’t respond right away, stalking across the empty room to sink down on the throne.

He didn’t care that he wasn’t supposed to touch it.

Didn’t care that it was likely some kind of treason to sit in it.

He just needed to rest. “Maybe in a place like Helidor.” He began, “But even when he is well there are constant threats to his crown and to his life. If we told the truth…” Erik sighed. “Who knows what would happen?” 

Neither respond.

Gemma knew perfectly well the dangers Eleven faced on a daily basis before, but to Jade… It was fairly new, to be seeing it all close up. 

“I don’t understand what happened to him.” Jade said, looking to the floor. “He seemed… Well, not like himself. But he was fine until he saw that flower.”

“Do you know what it was?” Erik asked.

She shook her head.

“Wolfsbane.” Erik explained. “A poison. Shepards use it to kill wolves that threaten their stock. It had been grown here for its beauty before, but…” Erik couldn’t tell the entire truth. But he could give enough of it. “It was what was used to kill Lord Robert, and his council. After we learned that, Eleven had it removed from the kingdom. Every last stalk.” 

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t known.”

“You wouldn’t have. We’ve tried to keep it as close to secret as possible.” Deliberately leaking information bit by bit… Enough to keep suspicion off themselves.

“Sir,” a voice called through the latched doors, “The herbalists have arrived.” 

Erik takes only a moment to tip his head back, and pray.

Pray that they can help. 

“Thank you.” He calls back, and pushes up from the ground. 

“Wait here,” he asked Jade and Gemma, “Try to write an announcement. He isn’t well, but… It isn’t grave. It isn’t serious. This is just all precaution.”

“That isn’t going to be easy.” Jade told him, speaking easily from experience. “Your people are going to want proof.”

“And they’ll get it.” Erik said, harsher than he intended. Jade narrowed her eyes at him, but took no offence. 

They were  _ all  _ at their wit’s end. 

“He just needs a few days.”

“I pray that you’re right.” Jade said. 

Just as Gemma waved him away. “Go on, take care of Ellie. We can handle things here.”

“Thank you.” He said, and went to follow the messenger. 

But before he could follow, a shadow caught his eye.

A cold shiver passed through him, and Erik realized he didn’t recognize them.

No uniform.

Not a maid, not a chef, not a guard.

And the castle was closed to all visitors.

They weren’t meant to be here, and they were walking alone down the hall. 

The hall to  _ his  _ room.

Erik gave chase without a second thought.

“S-sir!” He heard the messenger yell, but he didn’t slow. Didn’t give an explanation. Didn’t have the time to spare. 

Eleven was safe. Eleven was guarded.

But  _ Mia… _

A door slam.

A screech. 

He didn’t think.

Didn’t often take the liberty of thinking about the consequences when a life was on the line. 

And now was no exception. 

Cloaked.

Unfamiliar.

A danger. 

Hand on the knife strapped to his hip, sharpened to a deadly point.

No resistance as it met with the soft skin of the intruders throat. 

The blade pulled out, the would-be killer fell, and it was over. Simple as that.

It wasn’t his job to do clean-up. 

But…

He didn’t recognize this person in the slightest. Not a single feature ringing any kind of familiarity. 

A knife of the assassin’s own lay on the ground, the handle dropped from limp fingers. 

This was wrong.

All his time here… Eleven was threatened.  _ He  _ was threatened.

But…

“Erik?”

For the first time he could remember in recent memory… Mia looked her age. Small, scared. 

Eyes wide and filled with terrified tears. 

Down on the floor where she’d fallen when the door slammed open.

Remained there until the body fell.

Trembling.

He needed to know why they were after Mia.

But more important right now...

Erik was on the ground with her in seconds. “Are you okay? Did she do anything?”

“I-” Mia cut off with a sob, fear getting the better of her. Erik tried to pull her in, but wasn’t fast enough. 

Mia threw her arms around his shoulders, and held on as she sobbed. 

“Mia. It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

Her tears didn’t ebb. And he didn’t expect them to.

“I promise. It’s okay.” He rocked her, trying to give her the time she needed.

But it wasn’t safe.

He needed to get her out as fast as he could. “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.”

~~

Again in the throne room, doors again latched, and this time with the addition of guards on either door.

No more risks.

Erik would need to leave to see Eleven soon… But this had taken precedent. 

Laid out on a table before him, was each of the would-be assassin’s belongings. 

Three knives, identical to one another. Blades sharp, but not meddled with. No poisons or barbs. Nothing to aid in the target’s death, nothing to leave behind a signature. 

Aside from the blades… All that could be found was a single golden medallion, imprinted with a rearing horse, dressed for battle.

The seal of the Gallopolitan militia. But… A mere replica. Nothing to go off of. 

They’d sent word to the rebellion, but in the time since, not one person had come to claim their dead.

Either she was working on her own for her own ends, or it’s a new group.

And Erik can’t decide which option was worse.

As he sets down the medallion, Jade picks it up.

“One of these was found when his parents were killed.” She said, holding it to the light. “Were you told?” 

“I wasn’t.”

“Lord Robert wanted to declare war right away, and my father was ready to send in his own troops to assist.”

“Why didn’t he?” Erik asked. If Robert had been prepared to go so far to keep Eleven locked up like a prize jewel… He couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to attack.

“The council warned him against it. Convinced him that declaring war would only further endanger Eleven’s life.” Jade explained, setting the medallion back on the table. “That was all it took.”

That enough made sense. “But…” Erik took up the gold once more, one last thing not adding up. “This is fake.”

“What? How can you tell?” Gemma got up from where she had been sitting with Mia, rushing over to take it into her own hands. “It  _ looks  _ real enough.” 

“I…” Erik hesitated. They still knew very little about him. Being a killer they seemed to accept readily enough, growing up in environments where death was more common than jail time… But he had a feeling thievery wouldn’t be met with the same acceptance. _ “Dealt  _ in things valuable for a good while. Look here, a real Gallopolitan medallion wouldn’t be so thin. And this… This isn’t solid. It’s just a covering.” A terrible idea planted itself in his mind. “Are you sure this is exactly the same as the one found before?”

“Positive.” Jade spoke firmly, not an ounce of doubt.

It was a plant.

Gallopolis wasn’t to blame, and if war had broken out… They would have been victims all the same.

He needed to talk to Eleven.

...That is, if he was well enough.

The herbalists. 

He could start there.

“Stay here.” He ordered, “I’ll send more guards. Stay quiet, and stay safe. I’ll be back.”

Jade nodded. 

She could demand to return home.

Part of Erik wanted her to, but…

She was more help now than anything else. 

He needed her, and Gemma too.

But before he could make it to the door, Mia called out to him.

“Erik… Can you wait, just a moment?”

And Erik couldn’t ever say no. Less so now. “Of course I can.” He could spare just a few minutes more. Kneeling down to where she sat, wrapped in a plush blanket, he offered out his hand. “Are you alright?”

Mia began to nod slowly, grimaced, and gave a little half-shrug instead.

“More or less.” She answered, taking his hand in her own still shaking ones. “I just… I wanted to thank you. And… And apologize.”

“Apologize?” Erik repeated, brows furrowing together. “Mia, there’s nothing you need to-” 

“Just listen to me a moment you dumbass.” Sounding like herself for just a split second. 

“I’m sorry. You do all this just to keep us safe, and… And I’ve been a brat. I’m sorry, and… I know I keep saying it but I mean it. And you better savor it because it isn’t happening again.”

Erik stayed quiet as she spoke, managing a smile for her as she apologized over and over. 

But what she said next, struck him to the core.

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” Erik said, wanting,  _ needing  _ to say more, but finding himself mute. 

“And… I promise I’ll try to be nice to Eleven. You love him, after all. I should at least get to know him.”

“Thank you.” Erik said once more. “That means a lot. As soon as he’s well again, I’ll tell him.” A moment more spared, and Erik had to go.

It would have been perfect.

If not for what had triggered the change of heart.

He never wanted Mia to see him like that. Never wanted her to see any part of that life.

And more than that… Was that he feared there would be no time for Mia to fill her promise.


	7. A Gift in Good Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik carefully traced the edges of the bandages wrapped around Eleven’s wrist.  
> He didn’t understand how bleeding was meant to help anything. But… Again, it was weakness, or it was a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW this chapter, and a short one this time around.

“Any change?” Was the first thing Erik said as the door shut behind him, addressing not the king, but the healers that had finally arrived.

Days, they had been here.

And days they had worked night and day to heal, plants and powders and potions he could not name. 

The entire suite smelled of earth and greenery, but so strong and sharp it made his eyes water. 

All it had taken was a single scroll. 

Jasper’s testimony, written out and brought to the king. Words for his eyes only.

Erik couldn’t have imagined that Eleven could have gotten any worse, but…

Here they were. 

“Not as of yet.” The first healer answered first, not looking away from her tools. Erik stole a single glance, and quickly looked away. Dried plants and what had almost looked to be some sort of small animal - he didn’t need to know. 

Each little odd and end already checked over for safety. “These things take time.” 

He was no healer, and as such… He had no basis on which to speak, to contradict her or order both women to work harder, faster.

“But this will work?”

A scoff from the second one, their names eluding him. Flipping her blonde braids over her shoulders, she shot him a glare. “We haven’t lost a patient yet.”

_There’s a first time for everything,_ Erik wanted to say. But these girls were doing all they could, and for all he knew… They were all that stood between Eleven and oblivion. “Can I stay, for just a moment?”

He didn’t have much time to spare. There was work that needed doing, and there were people he needed to protect.

But any spare time he _did_ have… He would spend it here. 

“Just keep out of the way.”

The room was quiet, aside from the low, repetitive sound of a mortar and pestle. 

The healers here, and Erik doubted the plants could do any good.

Whatever it was afflicting their ruler… 

He didn’t know what could be done. 

He didn’t know what could be done about most anything, at the moment. 

But at the very least…

Eleven growing weaker was a blessing in disguise.

Eleven’s eyes fluttered open as Erik sat carefully on the edge of the bed, and stayed silent as Erik pulled his hand into his own. The ghostly pallor of his skin was only made all the more apparent by the bruise-dark circles under his eyes. 

Complacent for the first time in days, no hysteria to block their attempts to help. But in the same way… 

It was worse, seeing him like this. 

He made a small sound in the back of his throat as Erik leaned down, pressed a kiss to his forehead and brushed a lock of hair out of his face. 

As if that little sound was all he could manage.

Erik carefully traced the edges of the bandages wrapped around Eleven’s wrist. 

He didn’t understand how bleeding was meant to help anything. But… Again, it was weakness, or it was a fight.

“Good morning.” Erik spoke softly, unsure of what he could do to help, what he could do that would hurt. It may be a pointless question, but… “Are you feeling any better?”

“...Tired.” Eleven said, voice rasped. Sounding as if it took every scrap of energy he had just to respond.

Tired.

It wasn’t a lie. But it was the same he had been for so long… Erik had lost count of the days.

What little he did sleep was fitful and shallow, startled out of it before he could sink deep enough to dream. Deep enough to rest. 

Erik didn’t bother telling him to rest.

He knew he couldn’t. 

Whatever it was wrong keeping him from it.

“I know. I know.”

But somehow… Erik doubted this came from illness. Eleven was keeping a secret, and he felt miles away from discovering what it was.

It wasn’t an incentive to try and buy the secret from him, or any kind of trick.

Erik had planned on telling him before… But lost each and every chance he’d had before.

And now…

He didn’t want to risk losing any he had left. 

So many different ways he’d imagined giving it away, making a production out of it, slipping it out as casually as he could manage…

But what was a plan worth?

He should’ve given Eleven his name long ago.

But even now, the truth felt as though it was trapped, the words uncertain. Stuck in his throat. 

“I thought… Well, I’m not sure what I thought. But you deserve to know, I shouldn’t have kept it secret from you so long.” 

Eleven waited, looking silently on.

“It was rude, you know? I know your name, and really, everyone does. You know Mia’s name, and everyone else’s in the castle. I don’t see why I thought mine was so special. And…” Erik half-smiled, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. All your guesses, I don’t think they really match up. I think your opinion of me might be a little elevated, Your Majesty.” 

One more deep breath. He truly didn’t understand what he was afraid of.

Eleven knew him, knew just about everything at this point.

A _name_ wouldn’t be what he turned Erik away for.

“My name is Erik.”

“Erik…” Eleven murmured the name, but though he heard, it was as though it didn’t even register. 

He said nothing else. 

“Excuse me, Erik?” 

He looked up, and the first was back. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and motioned for him to get up. “I’m afraid he may not understand you at the moment. You’re welcome to stay, but-”

“No.” Erik stood, and tried to fight against everything rising up. Fighting against grabbing El by the shoulders, screaming at him, begging to know what was wrong, why he wouldn’t tell him… 

If Eleven had just been _honest_ from the beginning… 

Maybe it was a lie. Maybe he never trusted Erik all that much to start with. 

“I need to go anyway.”

The sound of the grinding of dried plants stopped, the pestle set aside. 

Only the creak of the door, and his own footsteps through the hall. 

The silence hardly matched the turmoil in his own head.

So much going on that he couldn’t control.

So little he could really do-

And only more problems growing.

He couldn’t rule. And even with Princess Jade and help from Derk and Opal… 

He didn’t know who to trust.

His own teams, the guards under his control, he began to question their loyalties. 

The validity of the truce between the palace and the resistance.

The truth in their claims that the latest assassin was not one of their ranks.

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Human, just out of sight.

“Who’s there?” Erik spun on his heel, hand going for the knife at his hip, scanning the corridor-

Just to find it empty. 

He knew what he saw. 

But there was no one here.

“Hello?” He called, voice echoing from the ceilings.

Nothing.

Though he couldn’t relax, Erik stood down.

He knew what he saw. 

But…

He was under more stress than he had been in years.

He could have imagined it.

But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t watching the shadows the rest of the way to their saferoom. 

“How is he?” Mia asks as he sits back on the sofa, head tilted to the ceiling in a hope to keep the tears from flowing.

He didn’t know why he felt like crying. He wasn’t going to let anything happen.

He wasn’t about to lose his King.

“Bad.” Erik answered the moment he felt that his voice was again under his own control. That it wouldn’t crack and betray him. But the words he spoke didn’t need any help in doing so. “I don’t even know if he recognized me. Only said two words-”

“Did you tell him your name?”

“I did.” Erik answered, and Mia knew all she needed from those two simple words. 

“Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know. The healers said he would, but…” He trailed off, and Mia came to sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and laying her hand over his.

He tried not to think about how long it had been since she had been comfortable enough to be so close. 

About now _this_ is what it took to bridge the gap they had made. “I hate this so much, Mia. I thought I could keep him safe, but…”

“You’re doing everything you can.” Placating. Like he was a child.

Like he was the little brother. 

“But I can’t even keep you safe. If I hadn’t seen…”

“You couldn’t have known they’d come for me.” He couldn’t have.

No one should have known she was there at all, Mia being just another face, no power, no rank… He hadn’t said it in front of her… But he knew what it meant that she had been targeted.

They knew they were there, they knew their relation, and they were going for where it hurt.

Eleven already incapacitated by his own illness… And now, this 

If they took Mia-

They had him. But to admit that aloud?

He wouldn’t do it.

“You’re handling this very well.” Erik couldn’t help how dry his voice sounded. He hadn’t been this calm when he had first come so close- but Mia was strong. More so than him, in many ways. 

“Maybe it runs in the family.” She meant it as a joke, but...

“I hope that isn’t it.”

He didn’t want her going down this path.

It wasn’t his choice…

But it was one he would make nonetheless. 

~~

Laid in bed, made just about as helpless as a newborn. He’s terrified of it, of the weakness, of the shades around, the strangers… But there is a point to be reached where simple fear erodes away, and when one can no longer be bothered to care. 

Erik… His name is Erik…

And he doesn’t know what to do. There’s nothing he can do.

They bleed him, and he can’t move. Spots in his vision, entirely separate from the shades. The world spins and he cannot hold to his thoughts.

It’s not that he no longer wants to fight… But simply that he can’t. 

He doesn’t feel hungry anymore. His body giving up on sending signals. 

No strength in his arms any longer to push away. 

But… Erik hadn’t noticed what he had done, but that was good. He knew how he looked, knew the state he was in. Erik wouldn’t have allowed him one in the first place. Hopefully, he would be forgiven.

As the healer draws near, a bowl of _‘medicine’_ ready… His hand tightens around the handle of a small blade.

He knew how many Erik carried on him. 

He knew where.

And while he wasn’t near as skilled as Erik was, he’d managed to learn a thing or two on his own. 

At this point, there’s not much he can do.

But he’ll be damned if he isn’t going down without a fight.

The blade caught the light, and it was seen, but it was too late to stop him.

The wound he left wasn’t deep. 

But it would have to be enough.

World spinning, feet unsteady under him, all Eleven knew was that he needed to run.


	8. Where it All Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t know what’s real anymore, what is a figment of his imagination. Sensations like spider legs crawling up his arms, across his face. Cobwebs and spider silk dragging him down, clouding his mind, trapping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW again!

_ “Do you think they’d be proud of you?” _

Words whispered in his ear, though he was the only one in the hall.

_ “What would they say, if they could see you now…” _

He didn’t know what was real anymore, what was a figment of his own imagination. 

Sensations like spider legs crawling up his arms, across his face. Cobwebs and spider silk dragging him down, clouding his mind, trapping him in the hell his own guilt had created.

Asleep or awake, it was all the same.

Voices of those gone and visions of things not really there… There was no difference any longer.

_ “How could someone like you fix all that has gone wrong?” _

There’s a deep, throbbing pain from the cut on his arm, the itching of The parted sides of the wound something he couldn’t ignore. The heat of blood fading to a chill as it soaks through the wrappings, as it cools with the open air.

As it drips from his slack fingertips to the floor, the knife dropped long ago. 

He doesn’t know why he’s running.

Open air… The dark of night through the windows. Petals fluttering on the breeze. He would not look. He would not give his mind the chance to identify what plant they came from. If it was ivy drying and falling from its vines or the blue of wolfsbane.

_ “Liar. Murderer. You’re no better than we were.” _

But he knows he cannot stay still.

His steps were slow.

And it felt as though he couldn’t get a good breath of air.

The balcony. He needed help. Someone was after him, he knew.

Someone knew his secret. Someone knew what he and the rogue were planning.

He needed his thief to come today.

He needed help.

~~

The alarm had been raised, and though Erik had been told what had happened, he hadn’t been prepared to see it.

Gone.

Eleven was simply, easily,  _ gone. _

Illness and locked doors and guards no obstacle in his path.

The man was still too smart for his own good, waiting for Erik to leave, waiting for the shift to change. 

Erik stood shock-still in the doorway to the king’s bedchambers, ringing in his ears cut only by the sniffling of the first healer.

The blankets thrown aside, a broken bowl and the splattering of some brew the color of brackish water.

Droplets of blood on the marble.

It wasn’t a bad cut, just a little pressure and a good wrap and it would heal without a mark.

...Didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch, though.

Part of him wanted to yell at them both, scream in their faces for their incompetence, allowing him to escape-

But he knew better.

Incapacitated as he was… He should consider it lucky that they’d gotten off with nothing but a scratch.

_ Gone. _

The entire castle-

And he didn’t even know where to begin his search. 

“What are your orders, sir?”

Orders. Right.

Erik wasn’t alone in this effort. He had an entire castle at his beck and call.

But still… How long had he even been gone before the alarm was raised? Ten minutes? Half an hour? 

How far could he have gotten?

“I want five of you in each wing. Send a runner to find me if you spot him.”

“Sir!” 

Erik would check on his own. He might not be the only one searching, but… 

It would be best if he managed to find him first. Prevent any panic before it happened. 

But before he could leave as well, one of the healers called out.

_ “Excuse  _ me!” The second one said, incredulous that he was trying to leave. “Just where do you think you’re going?” 

Erik didn’t have time for this. “To find the King, where do you think?” 

“I hope you realize now we’ll be charging you double.” That didn’t matter. They could afford whatever they asked for, but- for the first time, Erik noticed they had packed up.

As if they were leaving. 

“You’ll get your payment when he is healed.” Erik said, “Same as before. This changes nothing.”

“As if we’re staying, Serena is  _ hurt-” _

“You said you’ve never lost a patient.” Erik recalled, “How many have you abandoned?”

“Are you serious?” Her voice went high, scandalized by the implication.

“You can’t lose patients you give up on, can you? How many? Or would King Eleven be the first?”

“We’ve never!” The other one, Serena, spoke up. 

He could almost regret what he said, the second girl more terrified by the idea than offended, but…

Eleven came first.

Always. 

“You aren’t leaving until he’s well, or he dies.” No room for argument. “And for your own sake, you’d better pray he doesn’t die.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Actually…” Erik looked the healers over. Arborians. Priests and healers. Children of the goddess, of a hometown that had no side to fight on. Peaceful for as a long as it had been founded. He turned to a guard, and pointed. “You! Who’s in charge right now?”

He snapped to attention. “With His Majesty indisposed… You are, sir.” As he thought. Eleven had raised him higher on the food chain than he had dared to expect, than he could have even  _ known  _ to expect.

But he hadn’t ever wanted the council to take control again.

And even in the worst-case scenarios…

Erik was who he trusted the most.

“So I am.” Erik looked back to the healer “Actually….” Trailing off, waiting for her name.

“Veronica.” Her face was a mask of rage.

“Veronica. I think you’ll find that I can.” Highest authority. Above the council, above anyone else in the kingdom. Aside from Eleven. “Don’t let them leave. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

Even if they went back to their home and complained of their treatment here…

There would be nothing they could do in retaliation. They could refuse to send any of their other people, should they need anyone again… 

But there was always someone else.

~~

The castle was always quiet, but now…

It seemed as though the hush over the world had a reason, the oppressive quiet pushing down and stilling even the mice under the floors and wind outside. 

The wall sconces all doused long ago, the gleam of metal on the floor almost went entirely missed.

The handle was red with blood, but as he kneeled down to pick it from the floor, Erik recognized it all the same.

One of his own knives.

That at least explained where Eleven had gotten the weapon.

Erik wiped the drying blood off on his trousers, and stood. Sheathing the small blade, he set back on his chosen path.

Now at least he knew he was heading the right way. 

“Erik! Wait!” He turned to see Derk hurrying towards him. Out in the halls where he wasn’t meant to be. Erik had demanded they all stay within the residential wings, but to see him here… “I heard what happened.”

“And?” He asked, as if he had the time to spare to stand and chat.

“Has he been found yet?”

“Do you think I’d be standing around here if he had been?” Derk winced as if he had been struck, but Erik found himself unable to dredge up any remorse. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“You mean about losing the respect of everyone I know if I stayed with the man I love?” Erik snarled back, apologizing was one thing. Any other time, he could have accepted it and moved on, but now…

He didn’t like the timing.

Didn’t like that in all the time he’d had,  _ now  _ was when he was tracked down. When Eleven could be anywhere, when he was entirely defenseless. 

“I didn’t mean it like that…” Maybe he didn’t, but all the same...

“Then what did you mean?” Erik asked, “What else could you  _ have possibly  _ meant?

He didn’t respond beyond a helpless shrug. Erik’s hostility rendered any excuse or reason he had useless.

And Erik hadn’t any more time to spare. 

“I don’t have time for this. Find Opal and get to the safe room. I’ll be there as soon as I take care of this.”

Erik had ditched the crutch Derk had given him the moment his back was turned, and while he’d be lying now if he said it didn’t hurt to turn on his heel and walk away as fast as he could… 

He’d made his point.

He was fine. It was healing. 

And any way Derk tried to give it, be it emotional or a physical aid… He didn’t need the fasle support.

It would take more than one half-assed apology to win back his trust.

If there was anything left of it at all.

Erik knew these halls better at night. He no longer needed to know each and every twist and turn in the dark, but it was this wing he knew by heart.

All but disused, these days, now that there was no prince to live in the quarters.

He only meant to use them as a pass-through, when he saw the ruby red droplets on the ground.

It wasn’t much, but it made his heart skip all the same.

It couldn’t have been anyone else. 

And there would be no better trail. 

A flash of white in the dark moonlight, the doors to the balcony opened wide.

Erik had found him.

Standing out on the balcony, staring out at the dark of night.

How he’d made it this far, he had no idea.

The droplets on the ground turned heavier at the threshold, as if he had hesitated there.

Eleven did not see him as he approached, though he made no effort to conceal the sound his footsteps.

He could hardly make out the words, but he could tell that Eleven was talking.

With no one else around, Erik hadn’t any idea who his words could be meant for. 

_ “No… no. I’m not alone. I’ve not been abandoned.” _

The railing was red where he held to it, the bandages and the sleeve around his arm stained red, though the bleeding appeared sluggish. His grip the only thing keeping him upright.

All the same, Erik couldn’t help but fear for him.

He’d seen Eleven terrified out of his wits, and still behave as calmly as if nothing at all had happened.

He’d seen him under fire from furious subjects, had to deal with the worst Dundrasil had to offer, and still maintained his composure.

But to see him reduced to this…

_ “He’ll come. He always does…” _

Erik didn’t know exactly how long he had truly gone without sleep. He didn’t know how long the human mind could last without it. 

But he had a feeling Eleven was close to finding out.

“...Ellie?” Erik said softly, a gentle warning before he reached out, Eleven just out of arm’s reach-

Eleven startled as if burned, whipping around fast enough that he lost his grip, that he went light-headed, the world around him spinning as the blood rushed too fast for his weakened heart.

Erik didn’t know if he was going to fall back far enough to tumble over or not.

Didn’t know if his balance was so compromised.

Didn’t need to know. 

Memories flashing of the last person he met on this balcony.

The last one to fall.

_ “No!”  _

The soft linen of Eleven’s nightgown bunches in his fists, arms wrapped tight around his back.

He hadn’t the chance to fall.

But Erik’s heart twisted as if he had.

Motionless in his arms, but safe.

Erik moved back until he could feel the stone of the brickwork behind him, and sank to the ground, Eleven still in his arms, cradled carefully.

His skin was cold.

And he was silent.

Unconscious. The spike of adrenaline more than his body could handle. 

He needed help.

Eleven needed to get back to his bed, back somewhere proper to rest, but Erik couldn’t bring himself to get up.

Couldn’t force himself to let go, to remove the king from where he rested against his chest.

Just a few moments.

Just long enough to be sure he would remain asleep. Just long enough for Erik’s shakes to stop.

Then… Then he could call for help.

~~

In the end, Eleven hadn’t so much as stirred as Erik carried him back to his chambers, or even moved as the (now irate and constantly monitored) healers redressed his wound.

No more bleeding. 

Imbalance of humors or whatever they wanted to call it, Erik no medic or not… He wouldn’t allow Eleven to be hurt like that again.

Wouldn’t allow another scare like this again. 

He only hoped that when morning came and Eleven woke, he would be in a better state to talk. 

To understand what was happening around him.

Enough was enough, and Erik wasn’t going to let him remain silent any longer.

And… It shouldn’t be too hard, now. Acting as ruler or not, he would be working entirely from Eleven’s side.

No longer trusting him to be left on his own.

But his own presence or not-

“I’m going to raise the guard on him.” Erik says, scrawling out a new number over the old. It wasn’t a  _ significant  _ increase… But it would be noticeable. More on Eleven, and he’d have to remove just a few from other parts of the castle.

From the city too, if need be.

Even if that would be a last resort. “We need a reason for him to still be out of public sight. If we don’t…”

Every guard, every chef, every maid in the castle aware of the king’s state was under oath to secrecy. 

If it got out to those who still wished him harm just how ill he was…

Erik was only one man.

He couldn’t fend them all off.

“Why not say that his life is under risk?” Opal spoke up from where she sat, “If it’s thought that there are frequent attempts once more, then you would be free to move our soldiers and guards as you wished, would you not?”

“I would.” Erik conceded, “But I would also be announcing that his life was more important than the safety of his people, and that’s the last thing he would want.”

“It is, though.” Jade spoke up. “While it is… Admirable, what he believes, he is King, and he has no heir. If he dies, so does this kingdom.”

“She’s right.” Gemma said, “I think Ellie would understand, once he recovers. He could start again.”

“We would also lose your support.” Erik gave one last argument, “If it was public knowledge that this castle was unsafe, it wouldn’t be long until King Carnelian demands your return. And I can’t run this place without you both.”

But it was a feeble attempt.

One way or another, he needed a reason to shut the kingdom down.

When morning came, he would have to give the order.

And he would have to deal with whatever came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of a slow burn, the story will start to pick up speed next chapter.


	9. Whisper in your Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see everyone who died. At the banquet, a year ago. Everyone who has been put to death since.” Eleven looked away. Unable to face their hatred, and unable to look Erik in the eye. “They whisper horrible things to me.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW

_ “Dundrasil has closed off it’s borders. No one in, and no one out.” _

Whispers among the people, rumors of all sorts only growing as they passed from mouth to ear. 

_ “It seems as though Eleven is no different from his grandfather.” _

Mordegon smiled, cold and satisfied. 

He hadn’t expected Dundrasil to fall on its own, not after King Robert had been killed.

But it would seem the weakness carried through in his flesh and blood. “You see, your highness?” He said, the apologetic tone coming with practiced ease. “I was correct. Dundrasil cannot be run on its own.”

Carnelian didn’t speak. “Princess Jade is still there. Locked up with all the criminals, all the thieves and murderers. Are you going to allow her safety to be compromised so?”

“You told me to allow her to go.”

Mordegon’s smile faltered. It had been a risk to advise the king to allow his daughter to leave, but… It saved him the extra work if she were to perish before he absolutely needed her to. “And it was wrong of me. I had wrongfully assumed that she would be safe. You must forgive me.”

“What should I do?” Carnelian did not move from his seat on the throne, perfectly content in allowing Mordegon the freedom to choose their course of action.

“Demand her return. And if you are refused…”

~~

_ “-ven?” _

For a moment, Eleven couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

Looking at the world as if from the bottom of a clear pond, ripples in his reality, and sound muted and soft.

The air seemed heavy, but easier to breathe than it had been for some time, and even through the haze of sleep, his mind felt clearer. 

_ “-ven.”  _

He thought he heard someone calling his name. 

But he didn’t want to answer.

He just wanted to stay in this little bubble of peace, where there were no ghosts whispering terrible lies in his ears.

“Eleven!”

And all too suddenly, the peace was shattered, the very last vestiges of sleep ripped from his grasp.

He was awake, and he hurt. Fire in his arm, a low throbbing in his limbs, and gnawing pain in his head only matched by that of his stomach.

...How many days had he been refusing food, now?

Too long, no matter the answer.

His thief sat at his bedside. 

“Can you hear me?” He asked, hands deceptively gentle on his skin, helping him upright through the dizzy spell. “Slowly, now. You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”

“Yes.” Eleven said, resting back against the pillows, eyes closed. “I can.”  _ Two days…  _ Why had he been sleeping so long? 

Something just on the edge of his memory… Something important. Something just out of his grasp. 

“Good. What do you remember last?”

_ Terror.  _ He remembered being terrified. But.. Not of what. He had been alone. “...I remember… Waiting for you.” He was scared, and confused. He had left to find his thief. 

“For me?”

“On the balcony. Like I used to. But- why was I there? You don’t have to… oh.” With that one fact, everything came back. The fog, the terrible things the shades had been whispering. Cutting the attendant. Almost falling. 

Including… 

“‘Oh’?”

“You told me your name.” Eleven said, realizing that he had hardly even responded before. “Erik. You’re right. I never would have guessed that.”

“Disappointed?”

“By your name? Erik, kitten.” The name came easily, but Eleven wasn’t quite ready to give up his nicknames. “My name is  _ Eleven.  _ I don’t think I’m allowed to be disappointed by someone else’s name.”

“You’re king. You can do and think whatever you want.” Erik said, “And I’ve told you twice now not to call me kitten.”

“I thought I was King?” 

“There are limits, even to your power.” Erik said, standing from where he’d been resting. 

For a split second, Eleven almost reached out. Ask him to stay, but before he could even begin to think the words he needed to say, he realized that Erik wasn’t leaving at all.

Panic born and vanished in a split second over nothing at all.

Or- close to nothing.

They were no longer as close as they had been, no longer within reach, had they tangible forms. But back across the room, just within sight.

But they were still there.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

“Here.” Erik set a breakfast tray over his lap, and stood back. “You’re going to eat this. No excuses.”

_ Blue petals.  _ None to be seen at the moment, but he felt suddenly queasy all the same. “I’m sorry. I really can’t-”

“I just made it.” Erik interrupted. “Brought it right up. Sorry I had to wake you.” 

“You  _ made  _ this?”

“On my own. It wasn’t touched by anyone else. I got the ingredients from the market, not from the kitchens. This-” Erik gestured at it, and Eleven dared to look down at it. “Is just plain chicken and rice soup.” Nothing like the courses prepared for him each morning and evening. Each he had to decline. Instead, it was one single dish. 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Was all Eleven managed to say.

The sight wasn’t making him ill. 

The smell wasn’t thick and cloying. Rather, it was pleasant. 

His stomach cramped with hunger.

“Yeah, well. Not all of us get to grow up with every meal prepared for us. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m nothing like the chefs you’ve got around here.”

“I… Appreciate the effort, but-”

“You don’t have a choice.” Erik interrupted him again. “You’re going to eat it.”

“Erik, I  _ can’t.”  _

“You can, and you will.” Erik took the spoon from the tray, and past Eleven’s half-hearted attempt to stop him, ate some. “Broth, wild rice, chicken, carrot, celery, and parsley. Nothing else. It’s  _ safe.  _ I’m  _ fine.” _

It wasn’t that Eleven didn’t trust him. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him.

Erik sighed. “Look. Either you eat it on your own, or I call in a guard and he gets to help me pour it down your throat. Your choice.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He grinned. “Wanna bet on that?”

No.

Eleven could see how that would go. 

And as hesitant as he was to eat it willingly…

He was less keen on learning exactly how Erik planned to carry out that threat.

Ignoring the self-satisfied look on his face, Eleven ate a spoonful-

Bland.

Incredibly, unsalvageably  _ bland.  _

No love lost on seasoning.

But… aconite had a taste. 

It was bitter to the point of numbness. 

And this… Was nothing.

It was safe. And that alone was proof. 

He waited until Eleven put the spoon down.

The bowl wasn’t yet half-empty, but he hadn’t expected it to be.

After going so long on next to nothing… It would take some time to get his appetite back to normal. 

This was a start, and Erik didn’t push him to continue.

Instead, he began his  _ next  _ demand.

“I know you’re tired. And I know that maybe you should go back to sleep, but…” Erik paused just a moment as he cleared away the tray, finding the right words. “But I can’t take another excuse. We can’t help you if you refuse to actually tell us what’s wrong.” 

There was no mystery as to what had changed. For either of them. Over a week functioning like a zombie, a week of constant panic. And… His own nighttime escapade that was very nearly the end.

Now, with two entire days of sleep and a real meal… It wasn’t a fix. But it was a start. “No. You’re right.” Eleven said, finally willing to tell the truth. “I’ll tell you.”

“Really? That’s all it takes?”

_ After so much fight. _

“I just…” Eleven began, and stopped. The truth. There were no other options anymore. “I knew I couldn’t rule if it was known my mind was unstable, and-”

“Unstable?” Erik asked as he again lost his nerve. “What are you talking about?”

“All day, everywhere, no matter what I’m doing or who is with me…” Eleven looked away from Erik, and to the other corner of the room. “I see-”

Standing in the corner.

Silent. Staring.

Glaring vitriol.

“I see everyone who died. At the banquet, a year ago. Everyone who has been put to death since.” Eleven looked away. Unable to face their hatred, and unable to look Erik in the eye. “They whisper horrible things to me. And… I know it’s my imagination. I know that I shouldn’t fear that everything is poisoned and that I’m not safe with my own guard but-”

“When you hear it over and over, it’s harder to ignore?” Erik guessed.

“Yes.” Eleven nodded, and waited. For the judgement. For the pity.

For the end of his rule.

“I wish you had told me sooner.”

So did he, but… “What’s done is done.” Mistakes made, he couldn’t go back in time and be better. “What do we do now? How can we fix this?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t keep going like this. I’m- I’m okay right now, but for how long? How long until-“ He was breaking down. Okay for now, when the ghosts were far and Erik was close. But they wouldn’t stay away, and Erik couldn’t be there for him constantly. 

As his panic bubbled to the surface, he didn’t notice Erik moving until he was held tight enough to force air from his lungs. “We’ll figure something out. Now that I know, I can help.”

No less forceful, he wrapped his arms around, hands twisting into the loose fabric at his back.

“How?” Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Talk to me. No more secrets.” Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Eleven allowed Erik to let go, to pull away. 

But he didn’t let go. Still holding to his arms, Erik expected him to hold to the new rule immediately. “What do you see right now?”

Eleven glanced to the corner. “I don’t know their names.”

“I don’t need their names.”

“Four people.” The words didn’t want to flow, and the truth did all it could to lodge itself in his throat, to render him mute. “One from the council. The rest assassins.”

“What are they saying?”

“Nothing, right now. They’re just watching.” Unblinkingly. Still as statues.

But hardly as harmless. 

“Is that so bad?” Erik asked, and Eleven watched him glance to that same corner, just to find it empty.

“How could it  _ not be-” _

“Try to think of them as staff.”

That managed to drag a halfway hysterical laugh out of him. Shocked and humorless. “The staff don’t look at me as if they’re plotting my death.”

Erik laughed, but it was less hollow than Eleven’s had been. “You would know that look, wouldn’t you? Well, you can tell them apart that way at least.”

“That was never a problem. The dead don’t resemble the living. Except…”  _ Truth. The whole truth. No more secrets.  _ “It often looked as if the living were like them.”

“What do you mean?” 

Eleven shuddered. “It was only ever for a moment, but I could swear… I would see people, living people, with dead eyes and grey skin…”

He trailed off, and Erik didn’t ask him to continue. 

They both lapsed into silence, and though his confession hung heavy in the air around them… He felt lighter.

“What do you think you should do?”

“Tell the truth.” He needed more people on his side.

Even beyond Erik’s knowledge of his ghosts… 

They were not his only problem. 

“Tell the... You mean-”

“About grandfather.” He clarified. 

Erik paused. “Who do you want to tell?”

“Not everyone, clearly.” He hadn’t been ruler long enough to risk such a fact coming into public knowledge. If he ever could. “But… Someone. I need to.”

“Derk and Opal already know most everything.”

Eleven froze. “How long?”

“Almost the entire time.” Erik confessed. “I went to them after… After it all happened. I was going to tell you, but… I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I understand.” Eleven said. Though knowing Erik had kept that from him left a bitter taste in his mouth… He really could understand. Those early days he jumped at every shadow, and knowing would only have made his anxiety worse. “Maybe… Gemma. Is Gemma still here?”

Erik modded. “Princess Jade, too. They’ve been worried sick. Shall I send someone to fetch them?”

“Please.” Eleven said. “I think… I think they’d understand.”

But when Erik let go, and rose from the bed, Eleven’s heart sank. “Wait!” He begged before he even knew what he was saying. “Don't… Don’t leave me alone. Please.” 

King. And begging not to be left alone like a child after a nightmare. “Don’t worry. I didn’t plan to.”

And yet, Erik still showed no pity. 

“Come on, get out of bed at least. I’ll have them both escorted here.”

Ever so slowly, still unsteady from the more than considerable amount of time he’d spent asleep, but already so much more secure… He was able to leave his bed, and shrug into a robe. Not the  _ most  _ presentable he’d ever been, but…

It would have to be enough. 

He didn’t have the time or the energy to properly dress for the remainder of the day. 

And… It wasn’t long before the doors burst open, and the two women were ushered through, the guards waiting outside. 

“Eleven!” Gemma didn’t hesitate to all but throw herself at him once he was in sight, not a thought given for how she would nearly bowl them both over with the action. “Goodness, I've been so worried… You look better.”

“I do feel somewhat better.” Eleven admitted as she let go, and took a step back. “But I don’t think I’m back to my usual self yet.”

“I wouldn’t believe you if you said you did.” Jade interjected. “No one bounces back that fast.”

“Yes…”

“What is it? You called us here for more than a status update, I’m sure.”

Eleven nodded. “Please,” he stepped over to the sitting area, and gestured to one of the two couches. “Have a seat.”

He waited for them to settle, even as he knew he’d unnerved them.

Erik didn’t sit.

Never fully at ease when others were around. “I have a confession to make. And… And I would appreciate if you listened to everything before you make your opinion.”

“Eleven?”

To begin… No matter how he started, he needed to get one thing clear. “First… You’re safe here, I promise. Within these walls you have nothing to fear.”

Jade narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly much less comfortable in her seat. “I hadn’t doubted that. But you saying it to preface a  _ confession  _ does not inspire confidence.”

“No…” Eleven said. “It wouldn’t, would it?”

“Can we get a move on?” Erik urged. No matter their reaction, he would have work to do as soon as it was over. Good or bad. 

“Right. Right, sorry.” Eleven sighed, and dove straight in. “You see, Er- my… Bodyguard, here-”

“They know my name.” Erik said.

“I… See.” They knew his name? Unless Mia has slipped up… He would have to find out what happened later. “Erik… A year ago, Erik was hired to assassinate me.”

Eleven had never taken the time to go back over the events of those few months, to look back with the clarity of hindsight and see all the mistakes they made.

Things they could have done better.

Much less… To view the story from an outsider’s lens, and head just how truly horrible it all was.

As he wound his explanation to a close, Jade and Gemma were silent.

As if waiting for him to say it was all a joke. A dream. 

A work of fiction meant to scare them.

But as he remained quiet, and simply waited…

Jade shot up from the couch, dislodging Gemma from where she had hung to her arm.

_ “You  _ killed Lord Robert? Eleven! I-” Her voice was low, dangerous. “I don’t even know what to say. He- he wasn’t the ruler Dundrasil needed, I know. But… He was your  _ grandfather.”  _

“He was my jailer.” Eleven said, just as Erik spoke.

Much firmer in his resolution that Eleven had been.

“You come and go, Princess.” He said, “But you didn’t live down there. You don’t know what it was like. What it is still like.”

“I can’t understand.” Jade shook her head. “Was there really nothing else you could do?”

But Gemma… She wasn’t shaken. “So that was it.”

“Gemma?” Jade looked down where her fiancé still sat, bewildered by her lack of reaction. 

“I had wondered. Jade, Erik is right. You came and went. You didn’t know what it was like to live here. Or… What it was like for Eleven.”

But Gemma knew. She knew all too well the prison he had lived in, going as far to help him escape it, little as she could really do in the end, but…

It was all thanks to her, really.

That he had those little tastes of freedom, that he had been given the opportunity to meet Erik at all.

“I’m sorry it came to that. But I’m glad you’re free now.” There was a bright shine to her eyes, as if she was close to tears.

For what, Eleven couldn’t decide. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jade apologized, but couldn’t shake off the terrible feeling that it came with. “I really hadn’t known exactly… I’m sorry.”

She didn’t understand yet… But it was a start. 

He was telling them all this for a reason. 

“I told you of the prisoner being kept here, haven’t I, Jade?”

She nodded. “You said he was behind your grandfather’s murder. But if that was really you-”

“I said he  _ may  _ have been, and I apologize for lying. But it was the truth that I thought he may have been behind my parents deaths.”

“Was he?”

Eleven looked to Erik. “I assume you have read his confession, and I’ll be relying on you all to make this decision-”

“I haven’t read it.” Erik said, casting a glance back. “It was for your eyes only.”

“Oh.” Eleven took a step back. More to explain, then. “I had assumed… Nevermind. Jasper - the prisoner - I came to an agreement, and he told me everything. Why he was here, how long he was… and what he had to gain from it.”

They were all silent, waiting for him to continue. “He’s one of Carnelian’s men. Here under orders to turn my people against me. For the same plot that killed King Irwin and Queen Eleanor, and failed to kill me.”


	10. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My family ordered the death of your parents, of you. It’s his fault you’ve spent your life confined here. That you… That you were forced to turn on your own. I cannot atone for his crimes, but I will not sit by and watch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW

Jade didn’t want to believe it.

Eleven didn’t either, but… 

He knew better than to dismiss Jasper’s claims outright. 

The grandfather clock chimed loudly, each ring counting off the hours they’d sat in hushed discussion. 

A plan long in progress, slowly coming to a head. One that Rab has been playing right into, but one that Eleven refused to be a part of.

“The Gallopolitan medallion. I was right. A fake, a plant.” Not a new discovery… But one worth bringing up again. Just in case there was any doubt.

But seeing the way both women looked now, tired and ill even in the warmth of the firelight… 

Even if they didn’t want to believe it, they knew it was true. 

“I don’t understand how this started…” Jade said, staring down at her hands, mind racing to find any reasoning, any justification for her father’s actions… And found none. “King Irwin and my father just wanted the best for our people. For yours.” 

Erik didn’t suspect Jade of lying, or having any true knowledge of her father’s intentions.

Even spending the last few days keeping her safe… He didn’t know her, didn’t know if this was all an act… And maybe he was a good judge of character, maybe he wasn’t.

But he trusted that her shock was real. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to dredge up any sympathy. 

Tension and emotions running high, Erik spoke before he could think better of it. “Well,  _ clearly  _ he stopped caring for the good of Dundrasil long ago.”

Not even a second passing before Jade was reacting to the half-insult, but directing her ire towards Eleven rather than at him. “Do you always let him speak so freely?” She asked, and Erik was once more reminded of his disdain for nobility. 

“Erik does as he pleases.” Eleven said just as Gemma cut in with her own reprimand. “I do not control what he thinks.”

“Jade!” Gemma yelled right away, then added on after Eleven spoke his peace, but quiet as though she didn’t want to agree with him. “Don’t be so rude. He isn’t exactly wrong.”

“Still. He needs not to say it in such a way.” Jade gave one final complaint, and Erik had to resist rolling his eyes. No, he didn’t need to say it. But she didn’t need to speak of him as if he wasn’t free to his own opinion. 

“Can I ask that we stay on task?” Eleven said, voice strained. “Please?”

“Of course.” Jade said, casting one last snide look at him. “But your… Little assassin should know in the future when to remain quiet.”

_ “Erik  _ is free to say what is on his mind.” Eleven said, putting emphasis on the name he had only just learned and raising his voice like he would when speaking to someone below him, and waited to be challenged. 

Erik tried not to openly grin at how quickly Eleven had jumped to his defense.

It hadn’t ever really been said aloud or openly acknowledged… 

But it was still known that Erik was a special case. Favoritism? It wouldn’t be due to anything else, and being aware of a problem did nothing to solve it, but Erik was not bound to the same principles of respect that others were.

He was free to speak and act however he pleased, no law above the king, and the king holding him to no law.

And there were many unhappy with that fact.

Still clearly upset redwith Erik’s words, but she held her tongue.

She didn’t have to like him, or the things he did or said. 

And Erik didn’t care either way, a friend of Eleven’s or not.

There were more important matters to attend to.

Tense silence held for far less time than it could have, and soon enough the three of them were able to return to the topic at hand.

They didn’t have Jasper’s written confession before them, but they didn’t need it.

There wasn’t any way for Eleven to have forgotten a single word of it.

How could he, when it had finally shed light on the reason his parents had been killed? Why he had spent the first eighteen years of his life locked away?

Jasper didn’t know what triggered the old king to change, but change he did. 

His old philosophy he shared with King Irwin nowhere to be found, nearly from the moment he’d been killed.

Or more accurately, the moment he’d decided to have him killed.

The peace he’d once ruled with gone, and unchecked greed in its place. Slowly taking land into his control, encroaching on territory of smaller cities and towns once ruled by none.

And with the death of Dundrasil’s king, queen, and only heir, he had planned on killing two birds with one stone.

Evidence planted on the killer to turn the blame at Gallopolis, set the two nations against one another, and be there to pick up the pieces right as they destroy one another.

Because surely, once Rab was on his own with nothing left to lose… Well, one way or another there would be no one left to rule Dundrasil, whether or not Gallopolis still stood afterwards.

And even while that hadn’t happened… He hadn’t given up. Instead focused on killing Eleven and waiting for Rab to die on his own, of heartbreak or age.

Whichever came first. 

But even that plan had fallen through, and yet it seemed as though he still had yet to give up.

“So my father is really trying to become this?” Jade said with a shudder. “I… How had I not realized?”

“It’s not your fault.” Gemma tried to comfort her with a hand around her shoulder, “You couldn’t possibly have known.”

Erik wonders if he should be doing the same for Eleven right now. Imagines any kind of physical affection in front of  _ anyone…  _ And can’t do it. 

Later.

He would, later. For now… 

“What do you plan to do now?”

“I’m… Not quite sure.” Eleven said. “What can I do? Carnelian knows the state my kingdom is in. We cannot fight this war, and he knows it.”

And to Erik’s surprise, Jade is the next to speak up. “You can’t do nothing.”

“I do not plan on it.” Erik watches the way Eleven moves as he answers, his arms already crossed, but now the delicate fabric of his sleeves threatening to tear under his grip. 

Something no one would notice unless they were looking for it. 

He’d been lost before, learning and guiding himself through all the little facets of ruling he had never been taught… 

he’d struggled, and there was little Erik could do to help.

But he had yet to see Eleven so truly hopeless.

But he’d been alone before, and if there was one thing he wouldn't ever be willing to give up, it was this hard-earned freedom.

Freedom that was slowly being taken back away.

“I don’t plan on sitting by and allowing your father to take my land.” He looked up. “When you go home… What will you do?”

He wouldn’t hurt either of them, force them to stay, or even so much as stop them from going home with every little scrap of knowledge they’d gained.

But he needed to know what to be prepared for.

“Well.” Jade took in one long, shuddering breath, and steeled herself to the truth. “For starters… I’m staying. We both are.” 

And Erik found himself finally able to relax.

But Eleven wasn’t so easily convinced. “You shouldn’t turn on your family just to protect me-”

Jade wasted no time in cutting him off.  _ “My family  _ ordered the death of your parents, of  _ you.  _ It’s his fault you’ve spent your life confined here. That you… That you were forced to turn on your own. I cannot atone for his crimes, but I will not sit by and watch.” She paused, and carried on in a lower voice. “Rumor spreads all too easily in your castle… I know what happened with the Sniflheim envoy. I know you are not innocent of starting conflict.”

“Oh, goddess.” Eleven paled. “I’d forgotten about them.”

“You _ forgot  _ that you threw an entire envoy off your land,” Jade said, “After picking fights with them? Do you really want that kind of attention?”

Erik went quiet as the two began to discuss what he’d done wrong, and what he could do to make it right. 

They didn’t need the animosity of both kingdoms now. They didn’t have the strength.

And even beyond that…

The fact that Mia had been targeted. The fact there were still people being sent after Eleven even after the rebellion had come to more peaceful terms… Heliodor wasn’t giving up. 

And they were not likely to.

They don’t have to make a plan right now, but they needed a place to begin.

There was no possible way that this would end in peace, and as the night drew in and they came no closer to any decision… 

A terrible sense of foreboding sat like a rock in his stomach.

No matter what happened, Erik had a horrible feeling that something was about to change for the worse.

~~

The windows were locked and shuttered, and the door was latched. 

Guards posted as any weak point Erik knew of, and plenty more on patrol keeping a careful eye out for anything out of place. 

And even beyond that, even by some play of the devil, or will of the goddess that someone still made it through… 

Erik would be here.

They would be safe.

_ Eleven  _ would be safe.

But Eleven… Well, it was easy enough to understand why he didn’t like the extra guard. But he didn’t object. He understood their necessity.

But that wasn’t what kept him silent now. 

“What’s wrong?”

A fire burned low in the grate, the popping of moisture in the logs and the sound of burning hopefully keeping the whispers muted.

Even knowing they weren’t real. Knowing that the visions were nothing more than guilt given a form… He had to suppress a shudder. Constantly being watched… Even the thought set his teeth on edge.

“Jasper.” Eleven said, not a shred of hesitance. “All this time… Right under our noses.” He said it so plainly. As if any one of them could have guessed… 

“Well… It wasn’t as if you could’ve known. They did a fair enough job-”

“It’s not that.” Eleven cut him off, pushing away from where he’d been pressed against Erik’s side. Eyes pointed away from his apparitions and Erik’s hand tangled in his hair.

“Then what?” Erik asked, and waited. For an answer that took far too long to come. 

“...Do I have him put to death?”

“Wasn’t that the plan?”

“It was, but…” 

“You’re sick of death.” Erik said, recalling what Eleven had told him days ago.  _ Days.  _ With all that had happened… Weeks sounded more appropriate. Months, even. “You might’ve mentioned. Hell, that should’ve been enough to clue me off to what’s been happening.”

“It’s not your fault.” Eleven said, “Even if you had noticed, which you actually  _ did  _ in case you’ve forgotten, I wouldn’t have told you. Not… Not then.”

He could have at least tried harder. “Eleven-”

“It’s not.” He said again, standing from his seat, and grabbing the fire poker from the hearth, the black iron carved into the twisting body of a dragon. 

It was ridiculous. Erik hated it. Really, all you needed was a decent stick… but he said nothing, taking what Eleven said as the final word.

His fault or not, he wouldn’t argue. 

Embers blew upwards on a rush of smoke as the firewood was shifted. It had just begun to burn steadily. It needed no help. Eleven simply keeping busy as his mind whirled with everything the day had brought. “I think… I don’t think I can do it.” Awake for mere hours, and too much to think about. 

“You don’t have to. You made that deal, didn’t you? What did he ask for?”

Eleven didn’t need to think to remember what he’d finally  _ ‘agreed’  _ to. Days of negotiating to lull Jasper into a sense that they were taking him seriously. That they were honest. “He wants safety. Here. As… As one of my men.”

“No.” The word left on impulse.

“Erik-”

“Absolutely not. He turned on Carnelian too easily. How long before he sees a better deal and turns on you?”

“I don’t know what else to do.” Eleven muttered, shoulders falling. 

“You don’t have to kill him.” Erik said. There had always been the idea he might have to… But it hadn’t been one he’d entertained. Dundrasil has an executioner, and it was not him.

Eleven missed the implication. “But if I don’t what kind of message will I be sending?”

“But he can still be killed.”

_ That  _ he caught. Slowly looking Erik over, trying to discern his meaning from nothing. “...What do you suggest?”

“I’m not suggesting anything.” Was it really a lie when it was told so blatantly?

“Erik…”

Erik held his hands up in front of himself. “You don’t have to kill him. That’s all I’m saying.”

“But something must be done.” Eleven said, somehow still determined to make this decision harder than it needed to be.

“And it will be.”

Eleven gave an ever-suffering sigh. “Erik, I will not be adding his name to the list of those I have killed-”

“You won’t be.” Erik assures him. “I will.”

“Love… I know it’s too late to keep you innocent of these crimes, but I will not have you bloody your hands further for the sake of my peace of mind.”

“I would do far worse for your sake.” He had done worse. An ever growing list. “You know that. Don’t pretend now that isn’t true.”

“You really aren’t listening to me.” Eleven said, “I don’t want you to kill-”

“Then order me not to.” Erik stood. He didn’t tower over the king, just barely at his eye level. But he didn’t need to. “But remember, you said it first.” His challenge was met with silence. No order was issued, and Eleven waited for him to finish.

_ “I do what I please.”  _


	11. Allies and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And though it came not from his king, Erik followed the order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW

Blood didn’t ever really wash out.

No matter how many times his gloves were washed, no matter how long he spent laundering them, even if the stain faded… 

he knew it was there. 

And as such…

The stain never faded. 

~~

Pounding at the door.

“Your majesty!” A guard, voice frantic as he called through the thick oak wood door. “Your Majesty! 

Erik groaned, stars in his vision. 

Too early… 

It felt as though they were woken the exact moment Erik was finally able to drift off to sleep.

As though the sun had risen and the guard shift changed in the half second between peeling off his gloves and climbing back into bed and shutting his eyes.

But he knew that wasn’t the case, even though merely keeping his eyes open proved to be painful. 

But Erik could deal with one sleepless night.

A real testament to how things had changed for him if just a few hours missed could make him feel this bone tired.

But Eleven was worse off, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. After going so terribly long without proper sleep, guilt and ghosts keeping him awake through a constant stream of fear…

His body was not letting go of it easily.

“Don’t worry about it.” Erik whispered. “It’s alright. I took care of it.”

“...took care of?” 

“Just go back to sleep.” Erik said, pulling their blankets back up, and throwing an arm over Eleven, and pulling him in closer. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

The knocking ceased. 

But Eleven was awake. “It’s important.” He argued, “Why else would they be calling for me like that?”

He’d been foolish to hope that Eleven wouldn’t find out for days. That the matter would come and go before Eleven was able to talk himself around one way or another. “I promise you it isn’t. I told you, I took care of it.” 

Eleven pushed Erik’s arm away, and propped himself up on his elbow. “Kitten,” the pet name at odds with the chill in his voice, “What did you do?”

Erik kept his eyes closed and stayed where he was under the covers. “I took care of Jasper. Like I said I would.”

“You-“ 

“You didn’t want another ghost. So I made sure you wouldn’t get one.” He shouldn’t need to explain this. If Eleven has truly wanted to stop him, then he should have nights ago, when he had first asked. “Jasper’s blood is on  _ my  _ hands. You didn’t order his death. You didn’t  _ want  _ his death. It isn’t your fault. Just mine.”

“But-“ Erik finally opened his eyes, just in time to see the color drain from Eleven’s face. “Oh,  _ god.” _

He lurched forward, tossing the blankets aside but staying on the edge, one hand pressed to his mouth as though he were about to be ill.

  
  


“Ellie?” Erik tried to lay a hand on his back. “Are you okay? Should I call someone up-”

_ “No!”  _ Eleven pushed him away with his free arm.

The shove had no force behind it.

Stopping Erik from touching him, but doing nothing to distance him.

It shouldn’t have felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. 

Erik sat back, and did nothing. 

He saw the panic for what it was.

“I didn’t tell you to kill him!” Eleven’s voice bordered on hysteria. And Erik nearly found himself struck mute.

Slowly, as if Eleven were a cornered animal. “I know you didn’t. That was the  _ point.”  _

But that careful concern began to fade as Eleven kept his back turned.

He had done this  _ for him.  _ “I’m not sorry. I did what needed to be done.”

“I know.” Eleven said, his voice cracking. “Why… Why doesn’t it bother you? What’s the secret? Why don’t  _ you  _ have ghosts!”

“How am I supposed to know? It just… It used to. I told you that. I got used to it.”

_ “Oh did you, now?”  _ Erik stopped mid-sentence, his next words vanishing as the voice registered.

The same he’d heard in the night.

_ Do it. _

He knew what he’d see.

He didn’t want to turn.

But he couldn’t face the wall forever.

Jasper stood at the door, dressed in the same clothes he’d died in. Dried blood trailing down his chin, soaking into the collar of his shirt.  _ “Good morning, Erik. Eleven.”  _ Eleven showed no signs of having heard.

And… It was a wonder Erik could hear him either.

After all… He imagined it would be difficult to speak with your throat cut open. 

_ “What? Do you have nothing to say to me?” _

There was another knock. Softer, but it still carried with all the noise of a battering ram.

“Erik?” Opal’s voice drifted through, “I know you’re in there, and I know you don’t really plan on leaving, but… This really is serious.”

Erik didn’t know what it was he was hearing in her voice that stopped him, but what she would there be in knowing?

This wasn’t about Jasper.

This was much worse.

“We need you right now. Both of you.”

_ “It’s good to finally meet you properly, Erik. I do hope the two of us get along, after all… I plan to stay for a while.” _

~~

Jasper’s body had been found, and disposed of in the same way that each of the other death row inmates had been.

But not even once was he mentioned. 

What was the death of one criminal in the face of all this?

They had predicted violence… But not so soon.

They’d been prepared for continued demands, for Jade and Gemma’s safe return, for their peaceful surrender… 

But Heliodor hadn’t the patience, so it would seem.

Mere days since they denied to send the princess home...

Struck without the chance to defend themselves. All in the name of Carnelian’s ‘captive’ daughter.

It was lucky there were any survivors at all.

Erik looked down on those that remained from the safety of the castle balcony, at his king’s side.

At least now the two from Arboria were proving to be worth their room and board.

They weren’t hard to spot among the chaos, citizens and soldiers alike milling in the space below. Whispering to each other, watching the wounded and the dead be moved by those still able to help…

And piecing together the truth for themselves.

The castle and kingdom alike closed, but their king observing them now.

The princess had come of her own accord, standing and watching the carnage.

Dundrasil was still weak, more so now with so many gone... But it may as well have been a blessing, now that they have their people rallying behind them at last.

_ “My, my… His Majesty was right, wasn’t he? All it takes is a little bit of conflict… And look at that. Dundrasil united. Who’d have thought they’d see the day?” _

Erik did what he could to ignore Jasper, he knew all too well what would happen if he let the mirage get too close.

But he knew first hand now exactly how hard that was.

_ “I mean, I surely didn’t.”  _

~~

It wasn’t how he had planned it… But Eleven had been right about war uniting his citizens under his rule.

War declared, but their citizens responded to the declaration with vigor.

Their home was just beginning to be the place it once was, the home they all deserved.

And while it wasn’t to say there were none opposed to it…

“We aren’t strong enough.” Eleven said from the head of the table. From the council so small he could count the members on one hand. “We don’t have the numbers…”

_ “There’s an easy way out, you know…”  _ Jasper said from where he’d taken his seat by Erik, leaning over the surface of the table and dripping blood with every movement.  _ “Surrender. Give up. I’m sure King Carnelian will take good care of Dundrasil in… In your absence.” _

“We might not be alone.” Jade tried to reason, “My father will not stop at Dundrasil.”

“That’s right, we may have allies yet.” Opal said, adding her opinion in a futile effort to help calm the group. 

_ “Allies? After Eleven’s hostility?” _

“And why would any kingdom fight at the side of mine?” Eleven said as if he had heard Jasper’s words. “I have nothing to offer.”

“That isn’t true. There is safety in number, and if you can get even one kingdom on your side, then others will follow.”

Jade was right… Heliodor wouldn’t be satisfied to stop at Dundrasil’s takeover.

It wouldn’t be long until each other was caught in their sights until there was simply nothing left, and even then…

With that kind of power, what would stop Carnelian from looking off their coasts, into unexplored waters?

“It’s settled.” Opal decided when Eleven did not speak. “There is nothing to lose in asking our neighbors for their assistance.”

~~

The messengers sent, all they could do was wait.

_ “Difficult, isn’t it?”  _ Jasper asked from over his shoulder.  _ “To have to sit back and wait… Nothing you can do until someone else decides for you. Heh, not that  _ I  _ would know anything about that.” _

No… Erik wouldn’t be stagnant. He would find something he could do.

And for right now…

“Eleven?” 

The King turned to look, a sort of hesitance on his face that it hurt to see.

Erik hadn’t often before worried about disappointing people, when there were so few who had opinions that actually  _ mattered  _ to him, but… 

He’d done the right thing. And he wouldn’t apologize.

Eleven would come to realize that in his own time, but for now… 

“We need to talk.”

~~

Erik knew how to be invisible.

How to blend in to any crowd, no matter the size, no matter the type of people gathered. It was easy enough. 

Keep his head up, keep his hair covered. Walk like someone who belonged there, like he knew exactly where he was going, like he made that trip day in and out.

It was easy to learn what made people spot you. What made them remember you.

But so far… Erik had led a mostly invisible life. Blending in wherever he needed. 

And now was no exception.

Erik knew how to be quiet.

He knew how to make his steps fall silently, light enough to keep the thin ice layer solid, to keep his boots from crunching through half-frozen snow.

To keep himself hidden.

And when he combined the two… 

It used to be for theft.

Stealing things to in turn sell, stealing food to keep his stomach full.

Stealing little things to keep Mia’s spirits up.

At least… At least until he had the money to buy those things instead.

They were two skills he learned young, and two skills he kept. Honing them as he grew up, becoming a master in his craft.

Until he needed these abilities for something else entirely.

The warden was asleep at his post.

Hardly surprising, and not very concerning.

They had few dangerous prisoners at the moment, and even if they did, the warden wasn’t the one meant to stop them.

That fell to the guards just a floor above.

The guards who hadn’t seen him go by.

The guards who would find themselves with a fair mess in the morning.

Or when the warden woke.

Whichever came first.

Jasper didn’t wake as Erik stopped at his cell door.

He didn’t wake when the lock was picked, and didn’t so much as stir as Erik’s shadow fell over him.

A bed of straw on a mattress of old wooden slats. A chamber pot and naught else to fill the lonely little space.

A fitting home for someone like him to die. Life spent within the small confines of the old church. Of the confessional booth. 

The light was fading, torches burning low. In need of replacement very soon.

Erik didn’t have much time to spare.

He’d thought hard on how he would do this.

Poison would be easy. A fast, clean kill.

But aside from that single stalk… All the wolfsbane was gone from Dundrasil.

And even besides that… He didn’t want to scare Eleven. And another poisoning case within his own domain?

It wouldn’t end well.

He thought about strangling him, giving him as close to the death he’d have at Eleven’s orders… But it took too long. And Jasper would fight.

And attention was something he couldn’t afford.

Jasper sighed in his sleep, and turned from his side to his back.

Just making this all easier.

Erik tightened his grip on the hilt of the knife in his hand.

A perfect silver blade, the base inset with a beautiful blue gem, and the metal around it twisted and molded to look as though it was held in crow’s feet. 

It was beautiful. A gift from Eleven.

It was new, and he hadn’t quite gotten the grip right yet. It wouldn’t be long before it was broken in, though. 

And that would only make this process go faster.

But that first movement had not been all.

His brows furrowed, and before Erik could even begin to hide, he was staring down into Jasper’s sickly yellow eyes.

But Jasper did not scream.

Didn’t kick up a fuss or even try to bargain for his life.

Instead, Jasper smiled.

No fear to be seen, and not a movement made. Erik made out two words, just loud enough to be heard.

_ “Do it.” _

And though it came not from his king, Erik followed the order.


	12. A Neighborly Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t call me that!” Erik stood suddenly from his chair, and Eleven jerked back. But Erik didn’t move again. But his voice only rose, echoing against the ceiling and inside his head. “You know my name now! What. Changed? What is the difference between your ghosts, and mine? What makes me so despicable for doing what you hired me to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW

Eleven didn’t know much about the neighboring kingdom of Zwarrdsrust, nor the people that resided within its borders. 

But those borders were something they shared, both their lands tucked safely in the same mountains and plains. It would stand to reason that they would favor an alliance. 

That, and their response was the first to make it back to him.

A welcome truce, and a wish to discuss further cooperation in person. Of course, being so close it only made sense, and it was only proper to make the short journey over.

But it didn’t make him feel safe.

A sick sort of feeling kept Eleven awake in the stuffy air of his carriage, a feeling like minuscule insects crawling on his skin, and the crash of distant thunder in his mind.

Erik sat across him, the distance he himself put there palpable.

It would be easy to break it, to reach across and invite him back over, to apologize and fix what he had broken.

But it felt as though he hadn’t the air to speak or the energy with which to move.

And Erik would not look at him.

Eyes trained on the ground, held steady on his shoes. 

Maybe it wasn’t Eleven he was avoiding.

He knew all too well how hard it was to ignore one’s guilt.

And Eleven can only wonder when it would all end. 

Looking down at his own hands, he isn’t surprised to see them stained with red.

But knowing what he would see doesn’t stop the jolt of adrenaline that shoots straight through his heart. 

The blood had appeared mere days before, but not one other living soul could see it. 

And no matter how hard he scrubbed at it…

All he succeeded in doing was making his skin red and raw. 

He knows it isn’t real. 

But that doesn’t mean much, anymore.

The ghosts aren’t real, but they have made him sick.

The blood isn’t real, but it stains whatever he touches.

The ghosts aren’t real, but… Erik can see them, too. 

There was meant to be a line in the sand. 

But so many times what was meant to be fake had crossed over…

Eleven could no longer tell where he stood.

Eleven fought away a shudder, and pressed a  _ (not)  _ bloodied hand to his chest. 

The bruise, still so vibrantly colored, thrummed with dull pain. 

The healers applied salve after salve, gave prayer, and herbs and yet…

It still remained.

Eleven wanted to ask Erik if he could see the blood.

But in truth, he kept silent for fear of the answer. 

They ride in silence, and he doesn’t know what to do.

~~

The first thing Eleven noticed upon their arrival, was how calm everything was.

He’d thought that things had been different in Heliodor…

But this was nearly beyond comprehension. 

Erik did the same short check, and still walked just behind him, waiting for trouble…

But it was a trouble that wouldn’t come. 

The procession that brought himself and his pitiful envoy through the arched doors and carefully laid paths left him stunned and speechless, and filled Erik with dread.

No guards. 

Their escort was made up of not soldiers, but regular staff. 

There otherwise wasn’t anything out of place…

But it was what was missing that was the hardest to ignore. 

Still, it was easy enough to go through the motions, say what was expected of him like an actor from a script… and tune out his own voice to look around. 

At last he could  _ see  _ the people meant to protect their ruler, but still…

It seemed so lacking.

He understood that a kingdom at peace wouldn’t need half the manpower he did just to stay alive, but even Heliodor had shown more than this.

The only one of note stood at the throne, mich as Erik did. Two swords, one strapped to each hip and lack hair slicked back. His own bodyguard, Eleven stood to reason. 

And the King himself...

Dressed in a black coat and cape, large white gloves all accented with gold and purple… A purple to match his oddly colored hair.

But… Odd meant little, with Erik at his shoulder.

The sour look on his face didn’t spell an agreement, but Eleven held out hope.

Hope, he soon finds to be rewarded.

King Hendrik sighs, deep and troubled. 

“Come,” he says as he stands, leaving his station to join Eleven, his guard just behind. “I’ve always found that the outside air helps clear my head.”

“Oh,” Eleven stammers out as he realizes that he is waiting for Eleven’s agreement, but Hendrik only waits patiently, despite the look on his face, he doesn’t  _ sound  _ upset at all. “Yes- Yes.”

They walk and speak, going through the halls, and through the  _ opened  _ windows they pass, Eleven sees gardens that put even the ones from his memory to shame.

“I can see your confusion.” He says as they make their way from the throne room, “About the way my kingdom appears to be run, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“I am mostly unguarded throughout the day for many reasons.” He began to explain, laying a hand on the sword hilt at his side. Suddenly, the weapon looked much less ornamental. “Partially for the fact that I can sufficiently defend myself. The second… Zwarrdsrust is at peace. My people are safe and happy. There are none that wish me dead.”

Eleven barely bites back a dry retort of  _ That must be nice. _

“I am not going to allow Carnelian to ruin all that I have nurtured.” A door lay open at the end off the hall, curtains moving lightly with the breeze. Without slowing, Hendrik makes his decision. “You have my support. My legions will fight alongside yours, you will have use of my war council, and I will delegate control to you. Albeit as long as you do not pick fights where unnecessary.” 

That-

That was more than he could ever have hoped to have received. More, quite possibly, than he wanted. “Thank you, sire.” He managed, “But…  _ My  _ control? Whatever for? I’m younger than you are. Inexperienced. I have no understanding of the arts of war-”

“Youth and inexperience are only changed by time. You will not be on your own, as I said, you will have my council. Besides… It is not my kingdom under attack, suffering threats of death and slander.” Hendrik said, “If I took control from you now, it would make your kingdom see you as a child.”

Generous, Eleven decided. Considering he was scarcely past the cusp of adulthood in the first place.

Erik and King Hendrik’s own bodyguard walked behind them, but it was only Erik on-edge.

The halls were bustling with staff, moving about their daily chores. Some in a hurry, carrying boxes and baskets and stacks of paper, while others took their time, managing the time to stop and greet their ruler without expecting one in turn.

Eleven could feel panic bubbling in his chest with each sudden movement.

None drew too close, allowing him the space his station demanded.

But even so…

He and Erik both were visibly uneasy.

This was how a castle was meant to be?

Eleven thought of his own home, the quiet corridors and empty rooms… 

He didn’t want this.

He wanted his peace. 

He wanted to go home.

“I do not mean to overstep, but…” Hendrik trailed off, and Eleven heard his footsteps stop. 

Drawn from his thoughts Eleven struggled to follow suit without stumbling, and after following the other king’s eyes… His hands.

Ungloved, and for now, unbloodied. 

But that just let him see his own blemished skin clearer. 

Eleven’s hands had always been soft.

The skin uncalloused, never experiencing a true hard day’s labor.

But right now, he may as well have the hands of a blacksmith trainee. Fingertips reddened, and his skin blistered, though from the heat of scalding water, and not steam and smoke and molten metal.

“Ah… Just, more work that I’m used to, I suppose.” Did that make any sense? Was there any work he did that could result in such marks?

But Hendrik didn’t seem to notice the blatant lie at all. “It is a noble idea to try and take the brunt of the day’s work, but you help none by running yourself into the ground.”

“Of course.” Eleven said for little reason other than to show that he was listening. He knew overworking would lead to no progress, he had seen what would happen if he was no longer capable of doing what needed to be done.

Erik did a fine enough job, but… He could only stay in charge for so long before people started asking questions. 

Hendrik mistook his worry for shame. “There is no reason to be ashamed. I know better than most how difficult it is to establish your rule from nothing.”

“Pardon?” 

Hendrik continued through the doorway as he spoke, not stopping to check for any danger. “I was not the first, second, or even third heir to this crown. It came to me bloodlessly, but the goddess’s blood within me is weak, and many thought me unworthy. It took work to maintain it long enough for my people to accept me.”

“It has been… Difficult.” Eleven found the fact easy to admit, and only partially due to the fact it was likely already common knowledge. 

“But it does not have to be.” Hendrik claimed, resuming their walk. “Our kingdoms grew from nothing so close together. We weather the same storms, we have seen the same miracles. Our customs grew as one. The ceremonies we practice are nearly identical, from the celebrations of the birth of a child, the practices around courtship and marriage, and the ceremonies performed after one’s death-” He cut off suddenly with a wince, and a glance towards Eleven. “My apologies. I should not speak of such things. You have my condolences for the loss of your grandfather.” 

“Thank you,” Eleven said, hardly caring for the slip. There wasn’t any offense to be taken. And more importantly… “But what were you going to say? About the funeral rites?”

“Nothing in particular. Just that we practice nearly the same rituals to honor the deceased.”

“Which are?” Eleven prompted him to continue, but upon his blank look, took a deep breath to explain.

It would figure that Rab would have left him without such information. “My grandfather, rest his soul, kept me… Very sheltered, after the death of my parents. Kept me ignorant of certain things he deemed to be… Well, anything negative, I suppose. You must forgive me for asking.”

“No, no…” Hendrik said, his brow furrowing, looking troubled. “You have every right to ask. But, did they not preform it for Lord Robert when he… Passed?”

“He was placed to rest in the family tomb.” Eleven still remembered that day, when the guilt was at its peak. Dressing in all black, watching as the heavy stone doors were shut, calling out rehearsed phrases. Promises to bring the perpetrators to justice. “Nothing more.”

“I see.” Hendrik sounded grim. “The specific traditions that Dundrasilian nobility perform are different from ours, but the concept remains the same. When our people are killed by monsters - that is to say they die tragic or violent deaths, their spirits cannot move on to the next life. Their souls remain trapped here, cursed, vengeful and confused. But these ceremonies put them to rest, allow them to pass over. Have your councils, your educators not told you this?”

Eleven felt a chill. But his ghosts had not taken the trip with him, preferring instead to haunt their former home. “The council passed alongside my grandfather. And my tutor has been dead for years.”

“I… See.” News to him, and a new understanding of exactly how Dundrasil was being run.

Nearly single handedly by a boy not yet even twenty, and as far as he knew… Alone. “Your kingdom… You must have many furious ghosts. If I may advise you, find your family tradition as soon as you can. Put them to rest.”

~~

To rest… 

The words had stuck with him through the rest of the day, through the beautiful gardens he hardly saw. 

The introductions he would be unable to recall.

The dinner he had scarcely tasted, that now sat uneasily in his stomach. 

There was a line between reality and fantasy.

He knew.

He  _ knew. _

But as it had been blurred… 

The ghosts had not followed. There were none to see now, none to torment him.

None to examine.

But could it be…

Not the figments of a mind shattered by guilt, but the real souls of those he had betrayed? Souls he had doomed to a purgatory? This torture all his own making?

Thoughts that would assuredly keep him awake.

And speaking of…

“Are you coming, Erik?” His voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings, even in the low tone that he used.

The echo raised chills on his skin.

Too similar to the disembodied voices he had grown to expect.

“I’m staying here.” Erik said, pulling a chair away from the empty desk in the guest suite they’d been given, and sitting down in it backwards. “You saw this place, there’s no one around to make sure you’re safe. Just me.” 

“Oh. I understand.”

Seconds ticked by, but Eleven did not yet lay down to sleep. 

“You heard King Hendrik.” He forced the words out before it was too late, before he lost the chance. “About… About our customs.”

“You want to know what I think?” 

Eleven nodded, and Erik ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to find the right words.

“It… I don’t know enough about that sort of thing. Never knew much about fairies and monsters and the like.”

“You don’t believe in them, then?” Eleven deflated a bit. If he didn’t believe, and he still saw Jasper… 

But Erik dashed that fear before it had the proper time to settle in. “Didn’t say that. I don’t know if they exist, but… I’m not going to go find out. Why poke the bear, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“But… That would explain your ghosts.”  _ But not mine.  _ Erik didn’t say.

“There’d be no harm in trying.” Eleven said, feeling the smallest spark of hope.

He was going to war.

He was going to be fighting the strongest kingdom in the land, and yet… 

Here he was, more concerned with his own personal troubles. 

“What about Jasper? Do you think he’d go away?”

“I don’t know.” Eleven said, not daring to hope that this would free Erik as well, given that if worked.

But even if it didn’t… Eleven wouldn’t stop there.

If it worked, then these ghosts were real, and he would have a place to start. 

On his life, he would protect Erik.

Even if it was different than how Erik would. 

“...What changed?”

The change in Erik’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Eleven was left confused. “Kitten?”

_ “Don’t call me that!”  _ Erik stood suddenly from his chair, and Eleven jerked back. But Erik didn’t move again. But his voice only rose, echoing against the ceiling and inside his head. “You know my name now! What. Changed? What is the difference between your ghosts, and mine? What makes me so despicable for doing what you hired me to?”

“Nothing! Erik, love… Nothing.” Eleven pushed them blankets away, and slowly came to Erik. He wasn’t afraid. He knew Erik wouldn’t ever strike him, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t unsure. “I… I’m so sorry. I never meant… I’m a fool. I don’t mean to treat you horribly.”

Erik’s distance had been of his own making.

“Then why? Why are you acting like you hate me?”

“I’m scared for you.” Everything that had happened to him… He never wanted to see Erik suffer it. The sleepless nights, the paranoia, the hallucinations and night terrors… “Erik, I trust you more than anyone else. I… In truth… I  _ only  _ trust you.”

“You don’t…” That was enough to throw him off balance. “What about Gemma? Princess Jade?”

Once, he did. But now… He realized he could no longer say that of them. Not after knowing Erik, seeing how he acted towards him, and to everyone else he knew. Mia, Derk and Opal… The friendship they’d had as children was hardly anything of note. It was simply all that he had. “I… I know them. I know they wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. But… I don’t. Not in the way I trust you.”

“I…”

“I mean it.” Eleven said, letting his hands come up to rest on Erik’s shoulders, and dropping his face down to the crook of his neck.

Erik didn’t move. “I’ll do whatever I can to fix this for us both. I promise.”

Then… Arms around him, and Eleven felt the tension drain away. 

“Will you stay with me, please?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Sorry, your majesty, but you’re stuck with me.” Eleven drew away with a smile, and this time, Erik dragged the chair to the bedside, instead of the door.

Not an entire success, but… 

“Thank you.” Eleven murmured as he laid down to sleep, and as his hand was taken in Erik’s.

He would be the only one to sleep… But he wouldn’t be alone. “Can I say that I love you?”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” Erik asked, glancing down at him, “Nothing’s ever stopped you before.”

“I don’t know how badly I messed things up.” Eleven admitted. 

“Don’t be silly.” Erik said. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

And before he could say it himself…

“Go to sleep, Ellie. Love you.” 

War on the horizon, and he didn’t care. 


	13. Gone and Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ages-old ritual to put to rest the souls of the departed. Spirits that stayed locked into place, dead and yet unaware. Dead, but unwilling to pass on. Dead, but with deaths so horrible, they refused to leave until those responsible for their end met with their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW.  
> Watch as I misspell Zwardsrust in a new way in every chapter.

An ages-old ritual to put to rest the souls of the dearly departed and those that wished to be forgotten alike. Spirits that stayed locked into place, dead and yet unaware. Dead, but unwilling to pass on. Dead, but with deaths so horrible, they refused to leave until those responsible for their end met with their own.

A tradition of the royal family older than anyone quite knew, translated again and again as their language evolved, until none were quite sure if what was written was still true to the original script.

And even after all this time… 

Still practiced. 

After all, what the first practice and what the original words mattered not so long as it still gave the results that Eleven desired.

Even if it all seemed like nothing more than fantasy from a witch’s spellbook.

Each life, a leaf on Yggdrasil’s branches.

The goddess he had been taught to pray to, the goddess whose blood he supposedly carried.

But after so many generations, surely that blood had faded?

Diluted so by human plasma that not a speck of his holy ancestry remained. 

Kings and Queens borne of the World Tree, children of the goddess with minds and hearts free of the impurities of man, sent to rule over the rest, to carry out the will of the goddess with the aid of priests and priestesses. 

But Eleven…  _ The impurities of man.  _

The sins of the devil, each he was guilty of, stained forever on his soul like spilled ink. Like spilled blood. 

Whatever it was that was supposedly meant to keep his soul clean… It was long gone, now. The last embers stamped out by his own doing if there had even any remained at his birth. 

And speaking of embers… 

The torch in his hand, the pile upon the altar. 

He was only meant to burn as many leaves as there were dead, but at this point…

What was the harm in a few extra?

~~

The council was full for the first time in over a year, albeit not with his own men. 

Zwardrust instead filled the highest seats.

All, at least, but one. 

Erik stood not at his shoulder, but seated at his side. Not his queen. Not a consort, even. Legally, he shouldn’t be able to take that spot, hold the power that came with it.

But it was the other powers that Eleven had bestowed upon him that made his new, however temporary, council begrudgingly accept.

Not a nameless drifter in the night. Not his bodyguard at the moment.

But his commander.

Just another that all these men had to answer to.

_ “All to die….”  _ A voice whispers in his ear as Eleven watched over the room, hushed conversation and the rustle of parchment. 

A warning that made his heart skip and his blood run like ice. 

A shudder tried to force its way through him at the freezing cold air the spirits brought. 

Real.

They were  _ real.  _ And Eleven…. Was this nothing more than another taunt? Or could the dead’s words be taken as prophecy?

The people below, the best brought from not only Zwardrust, but the small burgeoning nation of Octogonia as well, new and terrified of being swallowed by the ancient established kingdoms.

Willing to help those they’d feared before on an effort to just survive.

None of them noticed as Erik spoke low, a careful hand just brushing Eleven’s fingers, as intimate a touch as he dared give with such an audience. “Don’t listen.”

Eleven only inclined his head to show that he heard, wondering what gave him away. Whether somehow his fear had shown for a split second on his face, or if Erik’s own shadow had whispered something similar.

Or if he could simply read Eleven that well.

No matter the reason… 

It did help, knowing he wasn’t alone in his terror.

One of the men below stood from his seat, and made his way to the podium to speak.

Eleven tried to focus his eyes on the man, to calm his thoughts enough to listen.

But he was so, so tired… 

~~

Good Yggdrasil, be She real or fake, did not exist on this plane as She did in stories and paintings. Depicted in stained glass and tapestries to have risen high above them, at home in the clouds, to rule and watch over all that She had created.

Above the streets, above the forests, above even the mountains of Dundrasil, all that could be seen was empty sky. 

But that wasn’t to say She didn’t exist at all. Just out of their sight, residing in the heavens, in the realm just outside their understanding, or even just invisible to man’s weak eyes… 

It didn’t matter. 

What did matter was the ritual She had blessed them with, to return lost souls to Her embrace.

Layers on top of the pedestal, were pure green leaves. Awake and alive throughout all of the year, split into three points. Each branch was meant to represent something, but the lessons were far from Eleven’s mind, and the sight meant nothing.

A lit torch in his hand, but he was not yet meant to set fire to the kindling. 

~~

Eleven kept his face carefully neutral as the suggested plan of action was laid out before him.

They would not await another attack. With their pooled resources and awaiting a response from Gallopolis they had the resources they needed to mount their own strike.

“It is an ambitious plan. We will not win all of these charges,” he trailed a finger over the map laid out on the table, a map Eleven could only scarcely make out the details of from his elevated seat, “So I suggest we send our weakest here, to the capital to do as much damage as possible.”

“Why the weakest?” Eleven asked, trying to stifle the rising annoyance that came with the blank look he was given.

He  _ knew  _ he wasn’t exactly maintaining all the little intricacies of how he was meant to speak and act, but…

It all grew ever so tiring. Once they had succeeded and the  _ ‘mentor’  _ Hendrik had promised him arrived, then he could worry about his behavior. “Would it not be wiser to concentrate all of our forces into one attack on their capital?” 

It took a few moments of careful deliberation, a few stops and starts, but Eleven for now remained patient. Sooner or later they would either learn to answer without preamble, or things would grow serious enough that they would no longer feel as though they had the time to spare. “No, Your Majesty.” He said, the certainty in his voice not matching up with the hesitance he displayed earlier. An act? The rational side of Eleven’s mind warned him that such thinking was nothing more than paranoia, but… That rational mind had also misled him about the actuality of the spirits he saw. “This would be an acceptable loss. Not all battles are meant to be won.”

A single drop of cold water.

The neutral expression Eleven wore melted away.

Rationality lost the fight.

Battles were won and lost. But to lose purposefully? Eleven hadn’t allowed himself to slouch, but hours in a single spot made it hard to keep to one position. Straightening up, he ran an appraising eye over the nameless man. “Change tactics, and make a new plan. I won’t see a single battle purposefully lost.”

He didn’t break a sweat under the Kong’s echoing voice or cold stare.

This man’s ruler he may not be, but he was royalty all the same. He should be showing  _ some  _ fear.“With all due respect, we have been sent here to  _ guide  _ you, and this is the course of action we have decided is best.”

“You are still under my orders.” Eleven said, looking around at the others. All properly disquieted. 

Good.

This one could be replaced. “And I  _ order you  _ to find another way.” 

~~

Twigs and sticks, carefully cut from the eldest trees in the tallest forest, inspected carefully inspected for any imperfections, and sigils carved into the wood with the care of a calligrapher, one after another until a pyre was built.

Leaves placed in the center.

Prayers being spoken.

The air around them all was damp with pre-dawn fog.

Frost on the earth, and a chill in the air that foretold snow. 

It would be a blessing if the wood even lit. 

And the possibility of it failing… Eleven felt ill at the prospect of having to wait for another cycle of the moon, to again have to fast, to spend entire  _ days  _ praying for forgiveness while the ghosts' taunts were all that could be heard within his own mind… 

Eleven feared he could not.

The hike from the castle had been strenuous enough, Eleven entirely unused to the effort he had to extend. 

On foot, from the castle, the foot of the mountain, to the highest peak of their mountains.

The king permitted the company of his bodyguard, and two priests to help conduct the ritual, but none else. 

All speech prohibited kept Eleven from asking for help, could the priests even give him any at all, and he couldn’t help but feel it was meant to serve as a form of repentance.

Had it not been for his bodyguard.

Heavy ceremonial garb only served to weigh him down further, thick coats and full regalia slowing each movement, catching each stray stone and tree limb, but Erik is there at his side, offering a hand, a shoulder whenever he’s caught or if he stumbles.

Eleven would need to thank him later, find some way to repay the favor that meant more to him than Erik could know. 

Until… The sky clear even through the mist.

His kingdom tiny below, even the sea clear as day through the dark of night, a black line stretching over the horizon.

Again, that nagging sense of wonder he knew only from paintings…

If not for this impending war. If not for his duties, if not for his birth… 

Eleven wanted to see it up close. All the places he knew existed and yet would never get to see.

But he could stand that want unfulfilled, with little glimpses like these.

Maybe someday, he just might get to see it.

The branches and leaves are all laid out according to tradition, offerings to the deceased placed on the altar, and a lit torch in his hands.

Prayer, loud and clear splits the silence of the night.

“Now, your majesty.” 

Permission given, Eleven wastes not a second in setting fire to what looks to him to be nothing more than a pile of cuttings. What was left over at the end of a gardener’s work day. 

But the way each leaf lit, flames licking high and illuminating all around them.

Pure white stone, each carving engraved with words he did not know, lettered in a script with which he was unfamiliar. 

There were no ghosts here.

No longer.

And if he were lucky…

It would remain so.

The fire was bright with color. Greens and blue striping through like the patterns on a stray cat. Like the intricate thread work on the coat he wore.

The twigs and branches snapped and popped as the moisture inside evaporated. 

Little by little… 

He could only hope that this would work. 

Only once the flames died and the priests retreated back did either of them feel free enough to speak, as the sun began to rise, orange light blending in with the remaining flame. 

It was done.

And now… A new threat awaited his return. But one he just may be ready to confront.

“Ready to head back?” Erik’s voice was soft, but still felt like cannon fire in Eleven’s ears.

Not even the birds yet awake to sing for the coming day.

“A moment more.” Eleven asked, the thin air leaving him dizzy, but the bite of the cold in his lungs a welcome pain. “Just a moment.”

Embers smoldered.

“Tell me, Eleven.” Erik again spoke, but softly enough that he almost missed it. Words meant only for him. “Are you still tired of death?”


	14. It All Comes Down to This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dundrasil had the highest claim, the kingdom closest to the heavens, the royal family carrying the strongest divine blood.

In an empty throne room, Carnelian sits and talks to his closest aid.

Mordegon had been at his side, steering the helm for decades now, and showing not a single sign of fatigue.

Guiding Carnelian in all that he chose, ever since he had first met the man.

_ A shame…  _

But… “What can we possibly do?” Carnelian asked Mordegon, the oddly pale skin of his hand just within the corner of his sight, holding true to the staff he had always carried with him. Skin hued with purple as if his entire body was bruised. 

Dundrasil on its own would have fared no true challenge.

The same would remain true of Octogonia, and whatever makeshift defenses other burgeoning lands could claim. 

Even though Zwardsrust would pose a threat, he had confidence that his own forces would be able to lay waste to the ancient Kingdom given enough time.

But all of them together?

Carnelian hung his head. He had knowledge of the olive branch King Eleven had extended to the Sultan.

If the other ruler were to accept… It would be over four against one.

This battle lost before it could even begin.

“Have you no spine?” He could hear the sneer in Mordegon’s voice, and didn’t need to look up to see the sour look of pity on his face, spoiled and twisted. “Not all is lost. Make your own allies. Heliodor will come out on top yet.”

_ On top.  _ Carnelian could not remember when that began to matter so much. 

Heliodor had survived well enough on its own for ages, coexisting rather than fighting for more land, more power.

It was safer in the end, to hold to what they had rather than try to control all around.

Erdrea needed no king above the others.

It never needed one.

Carnelian was only trying to take that title as his own for the  _ sake  _ of all around.

For his own people, for the people in the other lands, for his daughter.

Before Irwin or his son had the idea to take it first.

Dundrasil had the highest claim, the kingdom closest to the heavens, the royal family carrying the strongest divine blood.

Carnelian had always been against it. 

How things change.

The incessant whispering, the signs it seemed only he was granted the ability to see… 

Mordegon was the only one he could trust, in this world. In this war. 

“What allies?” Carnelian asked, names of places rolling through his mind. Hotto’s craftmanship would surely prove useful… 

“If you recall, King Eleven banished an envoy of Sniflhimian dignitaries from his land after a single offense.” Mordegon took a step away from the throne, looking out at the empty room, the golden detailing, the velvet curtains that hung over stained glass, the plush carpet, the wealth, the luxury.

So close to being his and so very far from his grasp.

At this point… All that was left was to bring it all to ruin. “It may be possible that their Queen would respond well to a kind offer of mutual benefit than a demand for her cooperation.” 

~~

_ Are you still tired of death? _

The morning Erik had asked was far past, and yet the words he had spoken had not faded. Stubbornly hanging to his conscience, echoing in his ears. 

But it was a question that Erik had needed to ask, and a question that Eleven had needed to hear.

No.

He wasn’t.

Rested again, he would take Erik’s voice following him any day over that of his late grandfather.

The late grandfather that no longer haunted his every moment. Eleven couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face. He didn’t care how it looked, didn’t care about how it could be interpreted. 

Lord Robert was finally gone, and Eleven was at long last well and truly free. 

It was a shame that his grandfather had been entombed rather than buried. Spitting onto a closed and locked door wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as doing it on the grave would be. 

Somewhere in the far corners of his mind Eleven was telling himself to draw it back, to calm down.

This sick enjoyment wasn’t him. 

It was just the product of the elation of freedom, of safety.

But even deeper than that… Eleven knew that wasn’t true.

This was him.

Born and raised to be exactly what he had become.

And that wasn’t ever going to change. 

“Are you ready?” Erik asked him, just outside the door to the council.

Addressing today not only Zwardsrust, but the chosen representatives of each of their new allies.

Growing bit by bit…

They would be ready for whatever Helidor had lying in wait.

“I am.” Eleven answered, truly meaning it.

Whatever came next…

They would survive.

The door opened, announcements were made, and Eleven took his seat.

Whatever it took. He was ready.

Until, at least, he again turned down a proposed plan. 

No one was happy.

Their time was limited, and the work tedious.

But again, Eleven would stand his ground. The only losses he would deem  _ acceptable  _ would be honest failures.

Nothing purposeful. 

But no one countered his word.

After all… Being King, being the one to helm this effort, his word was law.

To all, save one.

_ One  _ he should have sent home. 

“Afraid of doing what needs to be done.” Eleven heard the muttered insult, just barely audible from below.

But rather than angering him, this time he fought not to smile.

So this is how it would play.

“Dreadfully sorry,” Eleven spoke, watching with glee as the man jumped in his skin, “Could you say that again?”

Perhaps he should be acting properly, using what little teachings he had to show that he had what was needed to win this war, that he was a ruler deserving of his crown.

Everything mattered now more than it ever did before.

And Eleven didn’t care. 

“It was nothing, sire.” The man said, head bowed to the table. “I apologize for the disturbance.”

Well,  _ that  _ was no fun. “Are you sure?”  _ Taunting like a child.  _ This was serious.

He should stop.

But he didn’t. “Because it  _ almost  _ sounded like you insulted me.”

“Never, sire.” 

Really… at least have the decency to admit when you’re found out.

“That’s good, then.” Eleven said, relishing in the discomfort thick in the room. “After all… I am positive you’ve been told of what happened the last time an envoy dared insult me to my face.”

Banishing the envoy had been a terrible risk, and perhaps this as well.

But as the man grit his teeth and lost his nerve, Eleven decided it was the best move he could have made.

He couldn’t have anyone so trigger-happy working beneath him. 

Who could know when they would snap and turn?

“Your skin is too thin for a king.” The man spat. “If you hadn’t have done that, then we could have benefited from Sniflheim’s allegiance as well!” And, lower… “And maybe we could have been led by a competent commander.”

That was all he needed. “If that is how you truly feel… Leave.”

“What?”

“Feel free to stay the night. But you’re to leave in the morning. Find your way home. How, I do not care. But you are no longer welcome here, and no longer a part of my war council. Tell King Hendrik what you wish.”

The man’s jaw worked uselessly for a moment, but as Eleven smirked, he found his tongue. “You know nothing of ruling! Nothing of how to run a kingdom, to lead your nation into war!” The same old man, furious about his demotion and no qualms left about speaking to Eleven in such a way, royal or not, King or not… In his eyes, Eleven was nothing more than a spoiled, inexperienced, uneducated brat.

What little he knew. “We are here to  _ help  _ you! Goodness knows why His Majesty King Hendrik did not take the reins himself! If you want this war won, and you want your people to survive, I suggest listening to us!”

His tirade echoed through the high ceilings, against a backdrop of muttering. Hushed voices debating what was said, or maybe simple whispers of disbelief.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Eleven sniffed, and shrugged. Slouching in the throne, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Whatever these people thought… This war was in his control. 

Gallopolis soon to join the ranks of his growing empire. 

Erik made to stand, ready to give voice to his own thoughts, to rush to Eleven’s defense.

A good guard dog.

But sometimes… Eleven raised a hand. “Stay down.” He said.

Sometimes, he wanted to take his life into his own hands.

The exhilaration of having Erik’s knife at his throat all those months ago, the adrenaline he got when he gave up control to Erik at night, a hand on his throat, in his hair… Giving up every scrap of control was it’s own kind of bliss. 

But to  _ truly  _ take the power he had in hand and wield it?

It was criminal, how underused it was.

“You say I know nothing of strategy. That I do not know the weight of taking a man’s life?”

He didn’t answer. 

“Well?” His voice boomed through the empty air, demanding recognition.

“Eleven…” Erik whispered beside him, picking up on what he planned to do.

But Eleven ignored the warning.

What was the point in keeping it all secret?

Eleven was king. 

He had no heir. There was no one else to rule. 

This was the cost of their prosperity. A prosperity only held back by the threat of Heliodor.

They would have to accept it.

“How would you?” The man asked.

“I order the execution of those who attempt to take my life.” Eleven began, not quite ready to show his entire hand, even if he knew he would. “Is that not enough?” 

“You are not the one who holds the axe.” He stood tall, as if that was what would win him this debate. “You do not know what it is to fight, to suffer. To understand what is truly at stake.”

“I have held a blade.” Eleven said, while he was no sword master, he was hardly incompetent. “I have seen people suffer. I have known it, as well. Do you think that I lived in ignorance of what my grandfather did to Dundrasil?” 

“You lived inside this castle. In opulence.”

“I wasn’t allowed to leave.” Five words. Only five, and it felt as though the weight of the entire world was lifted from his chest. He could breathe, and the rest flowed out without end. “I was never left alone. I knew no peace, someone new coming to take my life nearly every day. Is that not suffering?”

It wasn’t uncommon knowledge at this point. But it still felt like a confession. 

“I-”

“I watched powerless to change anything about my reality. As my grandfather allowed his council to tear their home apart at the seams.”

Silence.

Erik did not move.

Eleven would not betray him, and Erik would not stand in his way. 

“Until they died.” Eleven said, peace like none he had ever felt spreading through his veins like a drug. “Until I had them killed.”

An eruption of pandemonium, cries of disbelief, calls for an explanation.

Musical.

The truth they wanted… And the truth he would give. 

“You say I fear what needs to be done… No. I am the only one who will do  _ whatever  _ must be done.”

~~

“You’re an  _ idiot!”  _ Erik yelled the moment they were behind closed doors. 

Hands pulling at locks of his blue hair, feeling strands pull free. 

He was going to go bald over the stress of keeping this man safe.

What  _ happened?  _

“It could have gone… Better.” Gemma said, a generous statement as she took her seat. “But it wasn’t a disaster. This can be fixed.”

“Nothing needs to be fixed.” Eleven said, whatever insanity that had possessed him earlier  _ finally  _ seemed to be gone… But with the distinct absence of any regret. “I do not need any such  _ help  _ from the likes of him.”

“We need all the help we can get!” Erik only barely stops himself from yelling. “And that isn’t the problem. Why did you confess? After everything we did to keep it secret?”

Eleven only shrugged. 

Great.

Maybe he  _ had  _ gone mad.

“Eleven is… Unconventional, however…” Jade began before Erik could continue to tear himself bald. “They will come to forget what happened. He is hardly the first to come to his rule through blood, and he will not be the last. Do not forget King Hendrik had to fight as well.”

“Right.” Erik said as he dropped into the sofa beside Eleven.  _ “Fight. _ Not  _ assassinate  _ more than ten people, including king and kin.”

Silence ticked on, not much that could truly be said.

What was done was done.

And only time would tell what would happen next.

“Maybe we should just poison Carnelian.” Erik said, only really half-joking. If Heliodor wasn’t so far… “I’d need to poison his creepy-ass bodyguard, too though.” Jade didn’t say anything.

Her father or not… She understood.

And she could deal with Erik’s gallows humor. 

The picture of the man still haunted him, gaunt and discolored. Though… “Maybe we could send someone.” Erik suggested. It would be worth a shot. “We don’t even need to get Carnelian, I bet. Just that other guy. Did you notice he never made a decision before he was spoken to? I think your dad might just be a puppet.”

“I’m sorry?” Jade said, and Erik snorted. 

“Maybe he isn’t all that much an evil mastermind. Just pulled around on strings…”

“No, really, who are you talking about?” Eleven asked, giving him a blank stare.

Not unlike the ones he was getting from them all.

Like he was talking nonsense.

“The.. Advisor?” Erik tried, “Bodyguard? I didn’t catch his name, or who he was.”

“...When?” Gemma finally asked.

Erik fought back the first hint of frustration. It was just a long day. They were all tired. “When you two hitched a ride back here.”

Again. Blank.

Erik stood. “Purple-y skin? Big old staff? Long robe?”

Nothing.

“Oh, come  _ on!”  _ Erik groaned. Were they messing with him? Did he do something wrong? A joke he wasn’t in on? “How many people fit that description? He was  _ right there  _ the whole time!”

“Love, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eleven says, pleading with Erik to listen. “Listen to me.”

There was something there, something urgent. Eleven begging him not to just listen, but to understand.

Erik let himself relax, let his voice go quiet as his king held his wrists in cold hands.

“There was no one standing with King Carnelian.”


	15. Son of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you stay with me, Erik?”

Of all the stupid ideas… 

Eleven having confessed to his crimes hadn’t resulted in the chaos that Erik had dreaded to expect.

On the contrary… It actually did nothing but  _ improve  _ his public opinion. 

Someone who would stop at nothing to achieve a goal, to keep Dundrasil safe.

Perhaps the best leader they could have, in this time of uncertainty.

Though,  _ uncertainty  _ was a perfect word for how Erik felt, sneaking carefully through the nighttime halls. 

The first wave set to leave at the first light of dawn.

Taking what Heliodor stole, little by little. Hamlet by hamlet, forest by forest.

Until it was just the capital left. 

And after that…

Eleven would have near the entirety of Erdrea under his hand. Putting a stop to Carnelian’s advances with his own.

And, what was the point in that?

Replacing one tyrant with another?

But thoughts like those were nothing but trouble. 

So what if Eleven took the place Carnelian had? He hadn’t any plans on taking full control of the other kingdoms. 

As far as Erik knew, at least.

The halls passed by him with little notice, until again Erik found himself in the hall filled with paintings, by the balcony where he’d first met Eleven.

And Eleven…

Alone.

Safe in his home for the first time. Heliodor having none to spare on assassins when they were too busy trying to keep their own borders safe, when their own leader was fending off his own death. 

Staring up at a new painting, one that had taken the empty place on the wall that once boasted a family portrait. A younger King Robert, Erik remembered. His three brothers. His own parents.

People Eleven had never known, and one he wanted dearly to forget.

Erik didn’t speak a word the night the canvas and frame had been repurposed as their firewood. 

Didn’t blame him at all for the loathing he had felt as he watched the craftsmanship melt.

But now… He was smiling at what had replaced the old portrait, and Erik joined him quietly in reliving the night that was forever saved within the canvas, immortalized and frozen with oil and brushstroke.

Colors brighter than Erik could nearly stand, even in the dark of night..

Against a backdrop of gold, like a mirror of a similar painting further down the row… 

The masquerade that Eleven had held.

Guests he could recognize based solely on tiny little details… The pearls the women wore, the colorful dresses…

He could pick Mia out from the crowd, her blue hair tied back in a series of braids and twists he hadn’t been able to figure out. His own reflection, black horned mask tilted upwards as he watched carefully as Eleven enjoy the one thing he’d always wanted.

It had been perfect.

Not one thing he would ever think to change.

One night.

One that Eleven had to enjoy his new life before everything changed. Before the ghosts first started to make their appearance in the corner of his eye. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried yet.” Eleven confessed, not looking away from the gold leaf detailing. From the way the both of them looked together in the paint. “Too much to think about.”

“About what they offered you?” Erik asked, but it wasn’t a real question. More to be polite than anything else, he knew there would be no other reason.

Until it was brought up, in that short stretch of time between the ritual and the offer Eleven had slept the sweet sleep of the innocent. 

“I don’t understand.” He admitted with a mirthless smile.“I’m… I have no experience. I only know the basics. I can barely rule Dundrasil. Why do they want me to lead an entire empire?”

“None of that is true.” Erik consoled him, “What happened to the crazy bastard from last week? The one who confessed to regicide in a room full of people who could have turned on you, just to spite one dumb old bastard?” 

“I shouldn’t have done any of that.”

Maybe not. But what was done is done.

And to be frank… “I don’t think you could have made a better decision.” Sure, he had been angry at first. More than that, even. He’d been ready to kill. 

But not only had it proven that Eleven had the conviction to lead, the mind for strategy, and the stomach for battle, it had only raised his own station.

Should he accept, and really, what other choice was there, Eleven would rule their land fairly as their first Emperor. 

Son of Yggdrasil. Closest to Her roots. Blessed he may be. 

Whatever words they wanted to string together to make him sound as if he was anything more than human. 

It didn’t matter.

Eleven was Eleven, whether he lived in this castle as a king, whether Dundrasil became the capital of their land, whether his power remained within their borders, stretched over seas, or was even all stripped away. “It will be fine.”

Eleven nodded, and let his eyes drift.

Snowy mountains. Plains of colorful flowers.

Places he knew were real.

Places he just may be able to visit should he accept, should he soon need to visit each kingdom, to check and be sure they were operating under his orders.

But such ideas were not in the front of his mind, rather just wisps of ideas to be retrieved later.

Rather, something much more important occupying his thoughts. 

“Will you stay with me, Erik?”

“Where else would I go?” Erik said in turn, perfectly aware it was no answer. But… He would stay.

No matter what, he would stay.

Dundrasil was Mia’s home. It was Derk and Opal’s home. It was Eleven’s. This was his home now, as well. 

Maybe someday he would have the desire to venture out, to see more. But for now… This is where he was needed. This is where he would stay. 

“Wherever you want.” Eleven said, eyes dropping down from the artwork to the clothes he wore, even now… It almost felt as though some of his work was being reversed. The silk of the sleeves, puffed around his wrists and ending in intricately woven lace, snow-white and unmarred by any stain or wrinkle… 

it seemed as though murder was excusable, but living in anything besides an over abundance of comfort was something that needed to be addressed right away.

But that was fine. Sooner or later, they could fix it again. And again. However many times it took. “You have the freedom. I wouldn’t stop you. Now or ever. I know what it’s like to be caged, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Let alone… Let alone you.” Being his bodyguard and lover now carried more than a fair share of responsibility, but should that change, Erik would need to be even more.

This wasn’t Eleven trying to hint that he wanted Erik to talk him in or out of this decision. This was Eleven giving him the chance to leave before he fell in too deep.

The dumbass. 

Where would Erik be, if not here?

“Why would I feel caged?” Erik asked. Sure, he spent more time indoors now than he ever did before, and he would be lying if he tried to claim contentment in this world of brewing war, but that was it! A world of brewing war. 

He wasn’t going to  _ be  _ happy until it was over. 

“I know I’ve been acting unusually.” Eleven whispered, picking at loose threads. “I haven’t quite been myself. And I…” he trailed off with a shrug.

Another mood swing.

But it was just to be expected.

Under so much stress, sanity slipping day by day under the constant watch of those he had wronged, this sudden freedom, only to be bogged down again with new eyes on him, watching, evaluating, each decision he made killing more, be it his own people or those of a rival kingdom…

He wasn’t going to be stable, and he wouldn’t be. Not for a long time.

“I’m sorry, your highness.” Erik said, eyes finding his own likeness in the painting once more. He wanted this. He wanted that again, that happiness. “But I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

No matter what was next, no matter what changed when Eleven was no longer his King but his Emporor… 

Erik would stay. He would do anything to keep this life the way it was.

Even…

As the night passed, and the winter took true hold over the land.

The goddess favoring their cause.

Or maybe… 

Erik did not take his place at Eleven’s side today. He didn’t need to. People from all kingdoms brought to help keep him safe on this day.

A day to be marked on calendars, to be celebrated each passing year.

A new crown placed on Eleven’s head.

A new responsibility on his shoulders, to protect his flock. To protect all around from Heliodor and Sniflheim.

One hand raised, one over his heart as he took an oath.

Emperor. Son of Heaven. 

Carrying the blessing of Yggdrasil.

Carrying the weight of his grandfather’s mistakes.

Mistakes he would fix.

All in time.

Content with what he saw, Erik took his leave, a shadow leaving the overflowing room, a person unnoticed through the streets of celebrating citizens, the streets repaired, homes being rebuilt.

All healing, day by day.

It would be a difficult journey from Dundrasil to Heliodor.

Even more so when he had to go back to Sniflheim.

There was no wolfsbane in Dundrasil.

But he was sure of where to find enough. How to use it.

How to put an end to this all.

As soon as the King and Queen were gone… 

He could return home.

He could carry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there more to come?  
> There just might be. Depends on a few things...   
> If anyone’s interested there may just be one third and final part!

**Author's Note:**

> Please don’t leave any concrit in the comments! I do this for fun, not for work.


End file.
